* 


/ 


$I*VL 


T    H    E 

BOSTHUMOUS  WORKS 

0  F 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER, 

1  N 

PROSE    AND    VERSE. 
To  which  is  added, 

A  COLLECTION  OF  ESSAYS, 

PROSE    AND    POETICAL, 

H 

B    Y 

MARGARETTA  V.  FAUGERES. 


N  E  W-  Y  O  R.K: 

Printed  by  T.  and  J.  SWORDS,  No.  aj,  William-Street* 
—  1793.— 


&G4& 


To  the  Public. 


AN  the  publication  of  Pofthumous  Works,  it  has- 
been  ufual  for  the  Editors  or  Publifhers  to  accom 
pany  them  with  a  Prefatory  Addrefs, — generally 
explaining  the  particular  reafons  for  offering  them 
to  the  world,  or  relating  their  peculiar  merits,  andt 
confequently  their  claim  to  the  patronage  of  the 
lovers  of  fcience.  In  compliance  with  this  genera! 
cuftom  we  think  it  neceifary  merely  to  note,  that- 
having  been  frequently  folicited  to  publifh,  in  a 
feparate  volume,  a  part  of  thofe  writings  of  Mrs. 
BLEECKER  which  had  appeared  in  the  New-Yor& 
Magazine,  we  conceived  a  collection  of  all  fuch 
of  her  poems  and  eflfays  as  might  with  propriety 
come  before  the  public,  would  be  more  likely  to 
meet  the  approbation  both  of  her  friends,  and  of 
the  friends  of  American  literature.  Having  fug- 
gefled  this  idea  to  thofe  who  appeared  moft  ftrenu- 
ous  for  the  meafure,  we  were  pleafed  to  find  it  met 
their  hearty  concurrence;  and  through  the  oblig 
ing  difpofition  of  her  hulband  and  daughter,  we 
are  now  happy  in  being  able  to  prefent  this  volume 
to  our  fellow  citizens. 

A  2  We 


TO   THE    PUBLIC. 

We  are  indebted  to  a  friend  for  the  idea  of  adding: 
a  number  of  profe  and  poetical  efiays,  which  like- 
wife  firfl  appeared  in  the  New-York  Magazine^  moil 
of  them  under  the  fignature  of  ELLA,  and  which 
are  the  production  of  Mrs.  MARGARETTA  V.FAU- 
GERES,  the  daughter  of  Mrs.  BLEECKER.  Our 
obligations  to  this  lady  are  much  increafed  by  the 
addition  of  feveral  Original  Efiays  in  verfe,  which 
the  reader  will  find  interfperfed  in  that  part  of  the 
collection  which  comprehends  her  writings. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  recommend  this  volume 
by  an  elaborate  difplay  of  its  particular  merits  or 
peculiar  excellencies :  the  bell  recommendation  we 
can  give  it,  is  an  attentive  perufal:  and  when  this 
is  done,  that  the  reader  of  tafle  and  elegance  will 
join  in  aflerting,  that  though  it  is  not  faultlefs,  yet 
that  its  merits  preponderate,  and  entitle  it  to  the 
patronage  of  every  true  American,  is  the  candid 
opinion  of 

The  PUBLISHERS.. 

New-York,  September )  1795* 


SUBSCRIBERS 


SUBSCRIBERS    NAMES. 


JL  Ho  MAS  Allen,  6  cop.1 
Athenian  Society, 
Andrew  Anderfon, 
William  Bache, 
Gardiner  Bakery 
Eleazer  Ball, 
John  Banks, 
Andrew  D.  Barclay, 
Edward  Bartlett, 
Anthony  Bartow, 
Johanna  Bayard,  2  cop. 
Chriftian  Beakley, 
Cornelius  Bergen, 
Anthony  L.  Blanchard, 
John  R.  Bleecker,  j  un. 
Alexander  Bleecker, 
Nathaniel  Bloodgood, 
Robert  Boggs, 
John  Bolen, 
George  Bowne,  jun. 
Walter  Bowne, 
Samuel  Boyd, 
Lsetitia  Bradim, 
Andrew  Bradim, 
Sufan  V.  Bradford, 
Gafherie  Bramer, 
George  Brewerton, 
James  Brewerton, 

A 


Henry  Brewerton, 
Catharine  Bridgen, 
William  Brifkcoa, 
Michael  Brooks, 
William  Broome, 
John  Burger,  jun. 
Lancafter  Burling,  jun, 
William  Bunce, 
Samuel  Burrowe, 
Thomas  C.  Butler, 
Eliza  Caldwell, 
Calliopean  Society, 
Robert  Campbell, 
Nicholas  G.  Carmer? 
Maria  Charles, 
Mrs.  Childs, 
John  Clark, 
Benjamin  Clark, 
De  Witt  Clinton, 
Peter  Cole, 
Richard  F.  Cooper, 
Mifs  Cooper, 
Peter  S.  Cortelyou, 
Catharine  Cox, 
John  Cruger, 
James  Davidfon, 
Richard  B.  Davis, 
Matthew  L,  Davis, 
3  William 


SUBSCRIBERS  NAMES. 


William  A.  Davis, 
Peter  Deall, 
Mrs.  Delancey, 
Thomas  Demilt, 
John  De  Wint, 
Henry  Dodd, 
Nathaniel  Forfter, 
Abraham  Fowler, 
Mrs.  Fran  nces, 
Hugh  Gaine, 
William  Gilliland, 
Charles  D.  Gold, 
Sol.  Goodwin, 
Oliver  Goodwin, 
Thomas  Greenleaf, 
Benjamin  Haight, 
Thomas  Hamerfley, 
Nicholas  Hammond, 
John  Harriflon, 
Ann  Julia  Hatton, 
H.  Haydock,  jun.  2  cop. 
William  Hervey, 
Sarah  Higginfon, 
Robert  Hinchman, 
Peter  Hines, 
Jacob  Hochfiroffer, 
Robert  Hodge, 
Mary  Hodgdon, 
Horanian  Liter.  Society 
William  Hurft, 
E.  Jones, 
Epaphrus  Jones, 
John  B.  Johnfon, 
Ifaac  L.  Kip, 
Ifaac  Kip,  jnr. 
James  Kirkland, 


Jane  Kirkpatrick, 
Jeremiah  Laniingh, 
Jonathan  Lawrence,  jurt. 
John  Leonard, 
Edmund  Ludlow, 
Peter  Mabie, 
Elizabeth  Mann, 
Thomas  Marmall, 
John  M.  Mafon, 
Benjamin  G.  Minturn, 
Jacob  Moon, 
Benjamin  I.  Moore, 
Jacob  Morton, 
Robert  Mott, 
Townfend  M'Coun, 
Archibald  M'Cullum,,. 
Dennis  M'Gahagan, 
Eliza  O.  Millen, 
John  W.  Mulligan, 
John  Neilfon, 
John  L.  Norton t 
Daniel  Paris, 
Euphemia  Paterfon, 
Nathaniel  Peariall, 
Henry Poft,jnn.  3  copies- 
Abraham  Prall, 
William  Rainey, 
John  Read, 
John  Reid, 
James  Riflef, 
Jofeph  Roberts, 
Sufannah  Rodgers-, 
John  Ryers, 
Jofliua  Sands, 
George  Service, 
H.  P.  Schuyler, 

Phil!* 


SUBSCRIBERS  NAMES. 


Fhilip  Schuyler, 
Peter  C.  Schuyler, 
G.  V.  Schoonhoven, 
Maria  Scott, 
James  Seaman,. 
Kichard  Seaman, 
J.  Slidell,  jun. 
Thomas  R.  Smith, 
George  Snowdon,  jun. 
Jofeph  M.  Stanbury, 
Daniel  Steele, 
Thomas  Stoutenburgh, 
Samuel  Suydam, 
Mary  Swords, 
Abraham  C. Ten  Broeck, 
Anthony  Ten  Eyck, 
Jacob  Ten  Eyck, 
Cornelius  Tiebout, 
James  Tillery, 
John  V.  Thomas, 
Chriftian  Tupper, 


John  Utt, 

Ifaac  Vanderbeck,  fun; 
Samuel  B.  Vanderbilt, 
Cornelius  C.  Van  Alen, 
Daniel  L.  Van  Antwerp,. 
Anna  Maria  Van  Wyck, 
GebafhViflcher, 
Harman  Vofburgh, 
James  Walker, 
Sarah  Wallace, 
George  J.  Warner, 
George  Wattles, 
C.R.&G.Webfter,6cop, . 
Ifaac  H.  Whitney, 
Benjamin  Williamfon, 
Nathaniel  Woodward3 
William  Wyche, 
Jofeph  Youle, 
Jofeph  Young, 
Samuel  Young. 


^  But  few  returns  have  been  made  of  the  fub- 
fcription-papers  fent  out  of  this  city;  many  like- 
wife  that  were  delivered  to  individuals,  we  have 
heard  nothing  of:  Should,  therefore,  any  who  have 
fubfcribed  for  this  volume  find  their  names  omit 
ted,  they  will  be  pleafed  to  afcribe  it  to  the  caufe 
above  mentioned,. 


CONTENTS; 


CONTENTS. 

/  ^ 

Page, 

JViEMOIRS  of  Ann  Eliza  Bleecker,      .  i 

By  Mrs.  BLEECKER. 

PJROSE. 

The  Hiftory  of  Maria  Kittle, '  19 

The  Story  of  Henry  and  Anne,     ....  89 

Letters, from  115  to  184. 

POETICS. 

Jofeph,        ............  185. 

On  Mrs.  Johanna  Lupton, 198 

To  Mr.  L— — , 200 

To  the  fame, 201 

To  the  fame, 203 

To  the  fame,     .           •    „  2OiJ 

To  Mr.  Bleecker,     . 207 

On  the  Immenfity  of  Creation,     ....  209 

A  Thought  on  Death,     .     .     .     ...     .  211 

On  the  Death  of  Cleora,     .     .     .     .     .     .  213 

Lines  written  in  the  Retreat  from  Burgoyne,  2 1  £ 

A  Complaint, 218 

Another, 219 

A  Profpeft 


CONTENTS. 

Page* 

A  Profpeft  of  Death, 220 

To  Mifs  Catharine  Ten  Eyck,  .  .     .     .     .  •  ibid 

The  Storm,   - 222 

Defpondency,        225 

Elegy  on  the  Death  of  General  Montgomery,  226 

Thaumantia  and  Fame, 228 

Kecolle&ion,  • 229 

On  Reading  Dry  den's  Virgil,      .     .     .     .  230 

To  Mifs  Ten  Ey-ck, 231 

To  Mr.  Bleecker,  on  his  pafTagetoNew-York,  232 

A  fhort  Paftoral  Dialogue,       .     .     .     .     .  236 

Hope  ariimg  from  Reirofpection,     .     .  /  <.  237 

On  feeing  Mifs  S.  T.  E.  croffing  the  Hudfon,  239 

To  Mifs  M.  V.  W 240 

To  Mrs.  De  H ,     .     .     .     .     .     .     .  242 

On  a  great  Coxcomb  recovering  from  an  In- 

difpofition,         243 

An  Evening  Profpec"t,     .......  244 

An  Hymn, 246 

To  Mifs  Brmckerhoff,  on  her  quitting  New- 
York,       .     .  24$ 

To  Julia  Amanda, .  250 

Peace, 251 

A  Paftoral  Dialogue, 253 

Return"  to  Tomhanick,      .     ,    .     .     .     .  260 


CONTENTS. 

By  Mrs.  FAUGKRES. 

Page, 

ESSAYS. 

Benefits  of  Scolding, .  -265 

Fine  Feelings  exemplified  in  the  Condu&  of 

a  Negro  Slave, 268 

A  Fragment, 271 

The  China  After,     .     . ..273 

POEMS. 

A  Dream, 27* 

A  Verfion  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  ....  280 

To  Alfred,  in  Anfwer  to  a  Complaint,  .  282 
Lines  written  on  a  blank  Leaf  of  Colonel 

Humphrey's  Poems, 285 

To  Aribert, ibid 

To  the  Memory  of  Aleon,  who  did  at  Sea  in 

the  Year  1790, 288 

An  Addrefs  to  a  Profile, 289 

Elegy  to  Mifs  Anna  Dundafs,  ....  291 

Morning, .  .  .  .  293 

Evening,  . 295 

Night, 298 

To  Mortimer  embarking  for  the  Weft-Indies,  307 

A  Verfion  of  part  of  the  7th  Chapter  of  Job,  308 
A  Salute  to  the  Fourteenth  Anniverfary  of 

American  Independence, 311 

Winter, 312 

Friend/hip, 


v  CONTENTS. 

Page. 
'3?riendfliip,       .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     -315 

To  the  Reverend  J***  N*****,     .     .     .  '  318 

To  the  Moon, 319 

Silence,       ...........  322^ 

To  Ethelinde,       .........  324 

To  the  fame, 326 

On  feeing  a  Print,  exhibiting  the  Ruins  of 

the  Baftille, 329 

To  the  Memory  of  Mrs.  Henrietta  Anna 

Maria  Dubuiflbn, 333 

To  the  Memory  of  Mrs.  Scriba  and  her  in 
fant  Daughter,       .     . 336 

To  Ethelinde,       . 339 

.A  Verfion  of  Mrs.  Barbauld's  Tenth  Hymn,  342. 
Lines  occafioned  by  Mr.  Robertfon's  refufing 
to  paint  for  one  Lady,  and  immediately  af 
ter  taking  another  Lady's  likenefs,     .     .  345 

To  Nature, 346 

Arria's  Tomb, 347 

To  a  Canary  Bird, 349 

The  Birth  Day  of  Columbia,     .     .     .     .  357 

July  the  Fourteenth, 3^3 

To  Mifs  Mafon,  at  New-Rochelle,      ..     .  355 

The  Hudfon,       


MEMOIRS 


MEMOIRS 

0  F 

Mrs.  ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER, 


Mi 


.RS.  ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER  was  the 
youngeft  child  of  Mr.  BRANDT  SCHUYLER, 
of  this  city,  (the  place  of  her  nativity ;)  ihe 
was  born  in  O&ober,  anno  Domini  1752^ 
and  though  in  her  early  years  me  never 
difplayed  any  partiality  for  fchool,  yet  fhe 
was  paffionately  fond  of  books,  infomuch 
that  fhe  read  with  propriety  any  book  that 
came  to  hand  long  before  the  time  that 
children  in  common  pafs  their  Spelling- 
Books.  'But  though  her  poetical  produc 
tions  (which  made  their  appearance  very 
early)  difplayed  a  tafte  far  fuperior  to  her 
years ;  yet,  fo  great  was  her  diffidence  of 
B  her 


11  MEMOIRS  OF 

her  own  abilities,  that  none  but  her  moft 
intimate  acquaintance  were  ever  indulged 
with  a  view  of  any  of  her  performances, 
and  then  they  were  no  fooner  perufed  than 
fhe  deftroyed  them. 

Hence  it  comes,  that  none  of  her  com- 
pofitions  previous  to  the  year  1769,  are 
extant :  in  that  year  me  married  JOHN  J. 
BLEECKER,  Efq-,  of  New-Rochelk \  and 
being  willing  now  to  cherifh  her  genius, 
after  a  fhort  refidence  in  the  capital,  they 
retired  to  Poughkeepfie^  where  they  ftayed 
a  year  or  two ;  and  then  taking  a  liking 
to  the  northern  parts  of  this  ftate,  they 
removed  to  Tomhanick^  a  beautiful  folitary 
little  village  eighteen  mites  above  Albany. 
Here  Mr.  BLEECKER  built  him  an  houfe 
on  a  little  eminence,  which  commanded  a 
pleating  profpecl.  On  the  eafi  fide  of  it 
was  an  elegantly  fimple  garden^  where  fruits 
and  flowers,  exotics  as  well  as  natives, 
flourimed  with  beauty ;  and  a  little  beyond 
it  the  roaring  river  of  Tombawck  daflied 

with 


ANN  ELIZA  ELEECKER.  Ill 

with  rapidity  its  foaming  waters  among  the 
broken  rocks  ^  toward  the  weft^  lay  wide 
cultivated  fields  •,  in  the  rear,  a  young  or 
chard,  bounded  by  a  thick  fbreftj  and  in 
front^  (after  eroding  the  main  road)  a  mea 
dow,  through  which  wandered  a  dimpling 
ftream,  ftretched  itfelf  to  join  a  ridge  of 
tall  nodding  pines,  which  rofe  in  awful 
grandeur  on  the  fhelving  brow  of  a  grafly 
mountain.  Through  the  openings  of  this 
wood  you  might  defcry  little  cottages  feat- 
tered  up  and  down  the  country,  whofe 
environs  the  hard  hand  of  Induftry  had 
transformed  into  rich  fields  and  blooming 
gardens,  and  literally  caufed  the  wildernefs 
to  bloflbm  as  the  rofe — It  is  to  this  fcene 
fhe  alludes  where  me  fo  beautifully  fays, 

Caft  your  eyes  beyond  this  meadow, 

Painted  by  a  hand  Divine, 
And  obferve  the  ample  Shadow 

Of  that  folemn  ridge  of  pine. 

This  was  fuch  a  retreat  as  fhe  had  always 

defired — the  dark  foreft,  the  rufhing  river, 

B  2  and 


IV  MEMOIRS  OF 

and  the  green  valley;  had  more  charms  for 
her  than-  the  gay  metropolis  me  had  left, 
and  in  which  me  was  fo  well  calculated  to 
fhine:  and  me  was  fo  much  attached  to 
rural  pleafures,  that  no  birds  fthofe  of 
prey  excepted)  were  ever  fuffered  to  be 
Ihot  near  her  habitation  if  me  could  pre 
vent  it- — indeed,  they  built  their  nefls  un- 
molefted  in  the  very  porch  of  the  houfe. 

And  the  cultivation  of  flowers  had  like- 
wife  a  large  mare  of  her  attention,  fo  much, 
that  where  Flora  had  been  remifs  in  deck 
ing  the  fod,  fhe  took  upon  herfelf  that 
office,  by  gathering  feeds  from  her  own 
garden  and  ftrewing  them  promifcuoufly 
in  the  woods  and  fields,  and  along  the  clo- 
very  borders  of  her  favourite  brook. 

'Till  the  memorable  1777,  they  lived  in 
the  moft  perfect  tranquillity — fair  prof- 
pects  were  opening  on  eVery  fide — Her 
mother,  a  widow,  (an  ornament  to  the 
fex)  lived  with  her — her  half-fifter,  Mifs 
TEN  EYCK,  was  her  cheerful  fprightly 

companion 


ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER.  V 

companion — and  her  attentive  hufband 
and  prattling  children  clofed  the  circle,  and 
left  her  fcarce  another  wifh  on  this  fide  of 
the  grave — Then,  indeed,  the  clamorous 
thunders  of  War  frighted  them  from  their 
peaceful  dwelling,  and  the  blafting  hand 
of  Defolation  difperfed  them  as  a  flock  in 
the  defert. 

Mr.  BLEECKER,  hearing  of  the  ap 
proaches  of  the  infatuated  BUR  COYNE, 
had  left  Mrs.  BLEECKER  with  the  children 
and  fervants,  while  he  went  to  Albany  to 
feek  a  place  for  them,  (her  mother  and 
filler  having  juft  quitted  her. )  But  he  had 
fcarce  been  gone  a  day  when,  as  fhe  fat  at 
breakfaft,  fne  received  intelligence  that  the 
enemy  were  within  two  miles  of  the  vil 
lage,  burning  and  murdering  all  before 
them.  Terrified  beyond  defcription  me 
rofe  from  the  table,  and  taking  her  ABELLA 
on  her  arm,  and  her  other  daughter  (about 
four  years  old)  by  the  hand,  fhe  fet  off 
on  foot,  with  a  young  mulatto  gir!5  leav- 
BS  ing 


VI  MEMOIRS  OP 

ing  the  houfe  and  furniture  to  the  mercy 
of  the  approaching  favages.  The  roads 
were  crouded  with  carriages  loaded  with 
women  and  children,  but  none  could  afford 
her  affi&ance — diftrefs  was  depictured  on 
every  countenance,  and  tears  of  heartfelt 
anguifh  moiftened  every  cheek.  They 
pafTed  on — no  one  fpoke  to  another — and 
no  found  but  the  difmal  creaking  of  bur 
dened  wheels  and  the  trampling  of  horfes 
interrupted  the  mournful  filence.  After  a 
tedious  walk  of  four  or  five  miles,  me  ob 
tained  a  feat  for  the  children  upon  one  of 
the  waggons,  and  me  walked  on  to  Stony- 
Arabia^  where  fhe  expecled  to  find  many 
friends;  but  me  was  deceived — no  door 
was  open  to  her,  whofe  houfe  by  many  of 
them  had  been  made  ufe  of  as  a  home — 
flie  wandered  from  houfe  to  houfe,  and  at 
length  obtained  a  place  in  the  garret  of  a 
rich  old  acquaintance,  where  a  couple  of 
blankets,  ftretched  upon  fome  boards,  were 
offered  her  as  a  bed  j  ihe,  however,  fat  up- 
all 


ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER.'  Vll 

all  night  and  wept,  and  the  next  morning 
Mr.  BLEECKER  coming  from  Albany^  met 
with  them  and  returned  to  that  city,  from 
whence  they  fet  off  with  feveral  other  fa 
milies  by  water.  At  twelve  miles  below 
Albany  little  ABELLA  was  taken  fo  ill  that 
they  were  obliged  to  go  on  fhore,  where 
me  died.  The  impreffions  this  event  made 
on  Mrs.  BLEECKER'S  mind  were  never 
effaced.  The  remembrance  of  every  cir- 
cumftance  that  led  to  it — the  return  of  the 
feafon — the  voice  of  an  infant — or  even  the 
calm  approach  of  a  fummer's  evening, 
never  failed  to  awaken  all  her  forrows  -,  arid 
fhe  being  naturally  of  a  penfive  turn  of 
mind,  too  freely  indulged  them. 

From  this  they  proceeded  to  Red-Hook^ 
where  me  met  with  her  mother,  who  was 
declining  very  faft,  and  died  a  little  after 
her  daughter's  arrival.  The  capture  of 
BURGOYNE  foon  after  taking  place,  they 
again  fet  off  to  vifit  their  little  folitude^ 
but,  in  their  journey  thither,  me  had  the 

forrowful 


Vlll  MEMOIRS  OF 

forrowful  office  of  clofing  the  eyes  of  her 
laft  remaining  fitter.* 

The  defcription  me  has  given  of  thefe 
events,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  may  not  be 
unacceptable. 


)  December  15,  1777. 

"  CURST  be  the  heart  that  is  callous 
sc  to  the  feelings  of  humanity,  and  which, 
"  concentered  in  itfelf,  regards  not  the  wail- 
"  ings  of  affliction !  Excufe  my  enthufi- 
"  afm — it  is  the  effect  of  repeated  injuries 
tc  received  in  my  flight ;  but  thank  heaven 
"  I  have  fupported  every  mock  with  tole- 
"  rable  fortitude,  except  the  death  of  my 
cc  ABELLA — me  indeed  had  wound  herfelf 
"  round  every  fibre  of  my  heart — I  loved, 
"  I  idolized  her — however,  my  little  love 
"  languished  and  died,  and  I  believe  I 

"  could 


*  Her  OWN   fifter,  Mrs.  S WITS— her  half-fifter,  Mrs- 
DABBE,  (then  Mifs  TEN  EYCK,)  is  ftill  living. 


ANNr  ELIZA  BLEECKER.  IX 

"  could  then  have  beheld  with  lefs  anguifti 
"  the  di  flotation  of  Nature  than  the  laft 
"  gafp  of  my  infant.  The  fenfations  I  felt 
"  at  the  death  of  my  dear  parent  were  of  a 
"  different  nature — it  was  a  tranquil  farrow, 
"  a  melancholy  which  I  have  heard  obferv- 
"  ed  fcothes  the  foul  inftead  of  corroding 
"  it.  While  I  held  the  expiring  faint  in 
"  my  arms,  .and  faw  her  juft  verging  into 
"  eternity — while  I  dropt  tear  after  tear  in 
6C  folemn  iilence  over  her  livid  countenance, 
"  oh  how  fincerely  did  I  wifh  to  accom- 
<c  pany  her  from  thofe  fcenes  of  vanity, 
"  from  which  her  admirable  precepts  had 
"  fo  much  detached  my  affections  \  Qb 
"  my  mother!  cried  /,  you  lately  wept  for 
"  my  ABELLA,  we  now  fay  the  fame  mourn- 
"  ful  tribute  to  you !  Oh  Death  !  thou 
"  greateft  evil  annexed  to  human  nature, 
"  how  doft  thou  diflblve  the  fweet  connec- 
u  tions  among  men,  and  burft  away  the 
"  filken  bands  of  Friendfhip !  I  thought 
*'  I  had  now  defcended  the  loweft  vale  of 

44  mortal 


X  MEMOIRS  OF 

c<  mortal  forrow,  but  the  deception  vanlfh- 
"  ed  at  the  bed-fide  of  my  expiring  fifter. 
"  To  enhance  the  diitrefs,  fix  tender  in- 
"  fants  were  clamouring  round  their  infen- 
"  fible  mother,  the  one  half  unconfcious 
"  of  the  occafion  of  the  general  grief,  and 
"  only  lamenting  becaufe  the  reft  did. 

"  After  her  interment  I  returned  hither, 
"  truly  convinced  how  vifionary  the  eclat 
"  of  this  world  is,  and  defiring  to  pafs  the 
"  remainder  of  my  life  in  a  tranquil  enjoy- 
<c  rnent  of  the  bounties  of  heaven,  neither 
"  elated  to  the  extravagance  of  mirth ^  nor 
"  funk  to*the  meannefs  of  dejeftion. 

«  A.  E.  &.5J 


From  this  period  till  the  year  1781, 
they  lived  in  tolerable  tranquillity,  when,  in 
the  beginning  of  Auguft,  as  Mr.  BLEECKER 
was  affifting  in  the  harveft,  he,  with  two 
of  his  men,  were  made  prifoners  by  a  party 

from 


ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER*  XI 

from  Canada,  and  taken  off  immediately, 
As  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  Mrs. 
BLEECKER  expelled  him  with  a  degree  of 
impatience,  and  began  to  be  apprehenfi  ve 
that  fomething  uncommon  had  occurred: 
a  fervant  was  therefore  difpatched,  who 
foon  returned  with  the  forrowful  account, 
that  he  could  not  fee  any  of  them,  and 
that  the  waggon  and  horfes  were  in  the 
road  tied  to  a  tree. 

She  was  at  no  lofs  to  conjecture  what 
was  become  of  him,  for  a  number  of  fmall 
parties  from  Canada  were  known  to  be 
fculking  in  the  woods,  for  the  fole  pur- 
pofe  of  carrying  off  the  moft  active  citi 
zens.  The  neighbours  therefore  were  iq^ 
mediately  alarmed,  and  the  woods,  as  far 
as  was  practicable,  were  fearched ;  but  they 
could  not  difcover  a  ilngle  trace  of  the 
party.  Mrs.  BLEECKER,  giving  him  up 
for  loft,  fet  off  for  Albany  directly,  though 
it  was  then  near  night,  and  abandoned  her- 
feif  to  the  moft  hopelefs  grief  j  but,  by  a 

wonderful 


xil  MEMOIRS  OF 

wonderful  train  of  events,  Mr.  BLEECKER 
was  re-taken  by  a  party  from  Bennington* 
after  having  patted  the  laft  habitation  on 
this  fide  of  the  Green- Mountains,  and  when 
his  conductors  for  the  firft  time  had  confi- 
dered  themfelves  as  perfectly  fecure.  He 
returned  to  her  in  fix  days,  and  the  joy  fhe 
felt  at  finding  him  operating  more  power 
fully  than  the  grief  fhe  experienced  at  his 
lofs,  a  fit  of  ficknefs  enfued,  which  nearly 
proved  fatal.  They  again  returned  to 
'Tomhanick. 

Though  Mrs.  BLEECKER  was  witnefs  to 
many  fcenes  of  diftrefs  during  the  late  war, 
in  many  of  which  fhe  was  the  principal 
fufferer;  yet,  the  idea  of  a  far  diftant 
peace,  which  fhould  again  reftore  her  to 
her  friends,  gilt  the  folitary  fhades  which 
encompafTed  her,  and  bore  her  up  under 
frequent  and  poignant  griefs. 

In  the  year  1783,  (the  fpring  after  the 
peace,)  fhe  re-vifited  New-Tork,  in  hopes 
cf  feeing  her  old  acquaintance  and  friends^ 

but 


ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER.  Xlll 

but  her  hopes  were  far  from  being  realiz 
ed — fome  were  dead;  others  had  left  the 
continent;  and  the  few  who  remained  were 
in  different  ftates :  She  faw  her  half-fifter, 
Mifs  TEN  EYCK,  but  once,  and  then  but 
for  a  few  minutes,  as  one  party  was  em 
barking  for  New-York  jufl  as  the  other  ar 
rived  at  Albany.  Her  principal  correfpon- 
dents  and  much-loved  relatives,  the  Mils 
y**  \y***  >S5  were  jn  Jcrfcy ;  and  as  the 
Britiih  were  ftill  here,  me  could  not  (with 
out  the  greatefl  difficulty)  viiit  them.  But 
the  ruinous  condition  of  her  native  city- 
gave  fuch  a  mock  to  her  fpirits  as  the  unit 
ed  efforts  of  her  reafon  and  fortitude  were 
not  able  to  ward  off.  The  places  which 
me  once  knew  as  the  fcenes  of  feftivity, 
were  now  funk  into  duft — the  place  that 
once  knew  them  knowing  them  no  more ; 
or  if  by  hard  fearching  me  at  laft  defcried 
them,  they  only  met  her  eye  as  monuments 
of  her  paft  pleafures — dreary  piles,  moul 
dering  faft  beneath  the  relentlefs  hand  of 
C 


3C1V  MEMOIRS  OF 


and  War.  Her  fenftbility  was  too 
keen  for  her  peace  —  She  had  ftruggled  on 
through  the  war,  and  had  fuffered  Hope  to 
beguile  the  hours  devoted  to  diftrefs  :  but 
now  the  fcene  was  changed  —  the  illufion 
vanished,  and  flie  concluded  now  flie  fhould 
fee  no  more  good  upon  earth.  She  return 
ed  again  to  her  cottage,  where  flie  found 
her  health  very  rapidly  decline  ;  and  on  the 
23  d  of  the  following  November,  about 
noon-day,  (after  two  days  confinement  to 
her  bed)  her  calm  fpirit  took  its  flight 
from  its  fluttered  habitation,  without  a 
Struggle  or  a  groan.  She  retained  her  fen- 
fes  till  within  a  few  minutes  of  her  death  ; 
and  the  laft  words  flie  uttered  to  her  weep 
ing  hufband  and  family,  were  aflurances 
of  the  pleafing  profpecl:  Immortality  offered 
her. 

It  is  needlefs  to  fay  her  lofs  was  feverely 
felt  —  it  may  be  naturally  fuppofed.  The 
benevolence  of  her  difpofition  had  extend 
ed  itfelf  to  all  clafTes  of  people  j  and  in 

the 


AWN  ELIZA  BLEECKER.  XV 

the  village  where  fhe  dwelt,  there  were 
feveral  families  who  might  be  called  her 
dependants.  To  the  aged  and  infirm  fhe 
was  a  phyfician  and  a  friend — to  the  or 
phan  fhe  was  a  mother — and  a  foother  of 
the  widow's  woes;  all  loved — all  honour 
ed  her :  and  when  they  followed  her  to  the 
grave,  they  weeping  faid,  (though  differ 
ently  exprefled,  ftill  meaning  the  fame,) 
"  We  have  loft  HER  whofe  equal  we  jhall 
never  fee  again!'9 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  writings 
which  we  now  have  are  but  a  fmall  part  of 
what  me  compofed:  me  was  frequently 
very  lively,  and  would  then  give  way  to 
the  flights  of  her  fertile  fancy,  and  write 
fbngs,  fatires,  and  burlefque :  but,  as  draw- 
iiig  a  cord  too  tight  will  make  it  break, 
thus  me  would  no  fooner  eeafe  to  be  merry-, 
than  the  heavieft  dcje&ion  would  fucceed, 
and  then  all  the  pieces  which  were  not  as 
melancholy  as  herfelf,  fhe  deftroyed.  As 
the  feldom  kept  copies  of  her  poetical  epif- 
"C  2  tics, 


XVI  MEMOIRS  OF 

ties,  the  moft  of  them  are  loft  -,  one  in  par 
ticular,  written  fome  little  time  before  fhe 
fled  from  Tomhanick,  in  1777,  and  direcled 
to  General  BURGOYNE,  was  left  in  her  bu 
reau  ;  the  bureau  was  broken  op«n  and  its 
contents  plundered  by  his  men  j  but  whe 
ther  the  letter  ever  reached  him  or  not,  is 
unknown.  In  the  winters  of  1779  and 
1780,  me  amufed  herfelf  and  friends  by 
writing  what  me  called  the  Albany  Gazette, 
which  was  fent  by  every  opportunity  to 
Fijhkill,  where  feveral  of  her  relations  lived. 
This  lively  and  ingenious  performance  was 
much  admired,  and  being  handed  about 
from  one  company  to  another,  is  entirely 
loft.  Several  political  and  fatirical  pieces 
mared  a  fimilar  fate. 

Some  of  thofe,  however,  which  are  left, 
are  here  prefented  to  the  public.  The  poli 
tical  fentiments  difplayed  in  feveral  of  them 
will,  it  is  probable,  recommend  them  to  the 
notice  and  favour  of  the  Patriot,  and  the 
reft  may  pleafe  the  lovers  of  artlefs  ftyle. 

Many 


ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER.  XV11 

Many  of  them  are  faulty,  but  their  merits 
are  more  numerous  than  their  defefts*  and 
tbefe  will  be  eafily  pardoned  and  forgotten 
by  all  who  knew  her;  for  Detraction  will 
not  rife  up  againft  her?  after  death,  whofe 
virtues,  when  alive,  endeared  her  to  fo 
many  admiring  friends^  and  whofe  enemies 
(and  Envy  created  her  fome)  could  not 
fpeak  evil  of  her. 

As  moft  of  thefe  pieces  were  intended 
for  the  amufement  of  herfelf  and  particular 
friends,  and  not  for  the  public  eye,  they 
appear  as  they  flowed  extempore  from  her 
pen.  Frequently  fhe  wrote  while  with. 
company,  at  the  defirc  of  fome  one  prefent, 
without  premeditation,  and  at  the  fame 
time  bearing  a  part  in  the  converfation. 

Mrs.  BLEECKER  poflefled  axonfiderahle 
fiiare  of  beauty  ^  her  countenance  was  ani 
mated,  and  exprefTive  of  her  benevolent, 
feeling  mindj  her  perfbn,  rather  tall,  was 
graceful  and  elegant  -,  her  eafy,  unaffected 
deportment  and  engaging  manners  pro>- 
C  3-  cured' 


xviii  MEMOIRS,  &c.' 

cured  her  the  efteem  of  moft  perfons  at  firft 
iight,  which  generally  increafed  on  a  more 
Intimate  acquaintance. 

M.  V.  F. 

New- York,  May,  1793. 


THE 


THE 


H    IS    TO    R    Y 

OJP 

MARIA      KITTLE, 

In  a  Letter  to  Mijs  Ten  Eyck. 


Tomhamck,  December  9  1779* 

DEAR  SUSAN, 


H 


OWEVER  fond  of  novels  and  romances 
you  may  be,  the  unfortunate  adventures  of  one 
of  my  neighbours,  who  died  yeflerday,  will 
make  you  defpife  that  fi6Hon,  in  which,  know 
ing  the  fubjecT:  to  be  fabulous,  we  can  never  be 
fo  truly  interefted.  While  this  lady  was  ex 
piring,  Mrs.  C V ,  her  near  kinf- 

woman,  related  to  me  her  unhappy  hiftory,  in 
which  I  fhall  now  take  the  liberty  of  interefl- 
ing  your  benevolent  and  feeling  heart. 

MARIA  KITTLE  was  the  only  iffue  of  her 
parents,  who  cultivated  a  large  farm  on  the 

banks 


2XF  THE  HISTORY    OF 

banks  of  the  Hudfony  eighteen  miles  above  Al 
bany.  They  were  perfons  of  good  natural  abi 
lities,  improved  by  fome  learning  ;  yet,  con- 
fcious  of  a  deficiency  in  their  education,  they 
ftudied  nothing  fo  much  as  to  render  their  little 
daughter  truly  accomplished. 

MARIA  was- born  in  the  year  1721.  Her 
promiling  infancy  prefaged  a  maturity  of  excel 
lencies  ;  every  amiable  quality  dawned  through 
her  lifping  prattle ;  every  perfonal  grace  at 
tended  her  attitudes  and  played  over  her  fea 
tures.  As  flie  advanced  through  the  playful 
ftage  of  childhood,  flie  became  more  eminent 
than  a  Penelope  for  her  induftry ;  yet,  foon  a.s: 
the  fun  declined,  flie  always  retired  with  her 
books  until  the  time  of  repofe,  by  which  means 
ihe  foon  informed  her  opening  mind  with  the 
principles  of  every  ufeful  fcience.  She  was 
beloved  by  all  her  female  companions,  who* 
though  they  eafily  difcovered  her  fuperior  ele 
gance  of  manners,  inftead  of  envying,  were 
excited  to  imitate  her.  As  fbe  always  made 
one  in  their  little  parties  of  pleafure  on  feftival 
days,  it  is  no  wonder  that  flie  foon  became  the 
reigning  goddefs  among  the  fwains.  She  was 
importuned  to  admit  the  addrefTes  of  numbers, 

whom 


MARIA  KITTLE.  21 

whom  fhe  politely  difcarded,  and  withdrew 
lierfelf  awhile  from  public  obfervation.  How 
ever,  the  fame  of  her  charms  attracted  feveral 
gentlemen  of  family  from  Albany,  who  intruded 
on  her  retirement,  foliciting  her  hand.  But 
this  happinefs  was  referved  for  a  near  relation 
of  her's,  one  Mr.  KITTLE,  whofe  merits  had 
made  an  impreffion  on  her  heart.  He,  although 
not  handfome,  was  poflefled  of  a  moft  engaging 
addrefs ;  while  his  learning  and  moral  virtues 
more  particularly  recommended  him  to  her 
efteem.  Their  parents  foon  difcovered  their 
reciprocal  paflion,  and  highly  approving  of  it, 
haftened  their  marriage,  which  was  celebrated 
under  the  moft  happy  aufpices. 

MARIA  was  fifteen  when  married.  They 
removed  to-  his  farm,  on  which  he  had  built  a 
;fmall  neat  houfe,  furrounded  by  tall  cedars, 
which  gave  it  a  contemplative  air.  It  was  fi- 
tnated  on  an  eminence,  with  a  green  inclofure 
in  the  front,  graced  by  a  well  cultivated  gar 
den  on  one  fide,  and  on  the  other  by  a  clear 
Are  am,  which,  milling  over  a  bed  of  white 
pebble,  gave  them  a  high  poliih,  that  caft  a 
foft  gleam  through  the  water. 

Here 


22  THE  HISTORY  OF 

Here  they  refided  in  the  tranquil  enjoyment 
of  that  happinefs  which  fo  much  merit  and  in 
nocence  deferved :  the  indigent,  the  forrowful, 
the  unfortunate  were  always  fare  of  confola- 
tion  when  they  entered  thoie  peaceful  doors. 
They  were  almoft  adored  by  their  neighbours, 
and  even  the  wild  favages  themfelves,  who 
often  reforted  thither  for  refreihments  when 
hunting,  expreffed  the  greateft  regard  for  them, 
and  admiration  of  their  virtues. 

In  little  more  than  a  year  they  were  blefled 
with  a  daughter,  the  lovelier  refemblance  of 
her  lovely  mother :  as  flie  grew  up,  her  graces 
iiicreafmg,  promifed  a  bloom  and  underftand- 
ing  equal  to  her's;  the  Indians,  in  particular, 
were  extremely  fond  of  the  f  railing  ANNA  ; 
whenever  they  found  a  yenng  fawn,  or  caught 
a  brood  of  wood-ducks,  or  furprifed  the  young 
beaver  in  their  daily  excurilons  through  the 
forefts,  they  prefented.  them  with  pleafure  to 
her  ;  they  brought  her  the  earlieft  flrawberries, 
the  fcarlet  plumb,  and  other  delicate  wild  fruits 
in  painted  balkets. 

How  did  the  fond  parents  hearts  delight  to 
fee  their  beloved  one  fo  univerfally  carefled-] 
When  they  fauntered  over  the  vernal  fields 

w  itlx 


MARIA  KITTLE.  2£ 

with  the  little  prattler  wantoning  before  them 
colle&ing  flowers  and  purfuing  the  velvet  elu- 
five  butterfly,  MARIA'S  cheek  fuffufing  with 
rapture,  "  Oh  my  dear,"  fhe  would  fay,  "  we 
"  are  happier  than  human  beings  can  expect 
"  to  be ;  how  trivial  are  the  evils  annexed  to 
"  our  fituation !  may  God  avert  that  our  hea- 
**  ven  be  limited  to  this  life !" 

Eleven  years  now  elapfed  before  Mrs.  KIT 
TLE  discovered  any  figns  of  pregnancy:  her 
fpoufe  filently  wifhed  for  a  fon,  and  his  defires 
were  at  length  gratified ;  fhe  was  delivered  of 
a  charming  boy,  who  was  named,  after  him, 
WILLIAM. 

A  French  and  Indian  war  had  commenced 
fbmetime  before ;  but  about  eight  months 
after  her  delivery,  the  favages  began  to  commit 
the  moft  horrid  depredations  on  the  Engliih 
frontiers.  Mr.  KITTLE,  alarmed  at  the  danger 
of  his  brothers,  who  dwelt  near  Fort-Edward, 
(the  eldeft  being  juft  married  to  a  very  agree 
able  young  woman)  invited  them  to  reiide  with 
him  during  the  war. 

,  They  were  fcarce  arrived  when  the  enemy 
made  further  incurfions  in  the  country,  burn 
ing  the  villages  and  fcalping  the  inhabitants, 

neither 


•$4  THE  HISTORY  OF 

neither  refpe&ing  age  or  fex.  This  terribly 
alarmed  Mrs.  KITTLE;  fhe  began  to  prepare 
for  flight,  and  the  next  evening  after  receiving 
this  intelligence,  as  fhe  and  Mr.  KITTLE  were 
bufily  employed  in  packing  up  china  and  other 
things,  they  were  accofted  by  feveral  Indians, 
V/hofe  wigwams  were  contiguous  to  the  village 
of  Schochticook,  and  who  always  feemed  well 
affected  to  the  Engliih.  An  elderly  favage 
undertook  to  be  prolocutor,  and  defired  the 
family  to  compofe  themfelves,  alluring  them 
they  fhould  be  cautioned  againft  any  approach 
ing  danger.  To  inforce  his  argument,  he  pre- 
fented  MARIA  with  a  belt  interwoven  with 
filk  and  beads,  faying,  "  There,  receive  my 
61  token  of  friendfhip:  we  go  to  dig  up  the 
*'  hatchet,  to  fink  it  in  the  heads  of  your  ene- 
"  mies ;  we  {hall  guard  this  wood  with  a  wall 
"  of  fire— you  fhall  be  fafe."  A  warm  glow 
of  hope  deepened  in  MARIA'S  cheek  at  this— 
Then  ordering  wine  to  be  brought  to  the 
friendly  favages,  with  a  fmile  of  diffidence, 
"  I  am  afraid,"  faid  fhe,  "  neceffity  may  oblige 
11  you  to  abandon  us,  or  neglect  of  your  pro- 
"  mife  may  deprive  us  of  your  protection." — 
**  Neglect  of  my  promife  !"  retorted  he  with 

fome 


3VIARXA  KITTLE*  25 

fome  acrimony:  "  No,  MARIA,  I  am  a  true 
"  man;  I  fhoot  the  arrow  up  to  the  Great 
"  Captain  every  new  moon:  depend  upon  it, 
**  I  will  trample  down  the  briars  round  your 
'*'  dwelling,  that  you  do  not  hurt  your  feet." 
MARIA  now  retired,  bowing  a  grateful  ac 
knowledgment,  and  leaving  the  favages  to  in 
dulge  their  feftivity,  who  pafTed  the  night  in 
tlie  moft  vociferous  mirth. 

Mrs.  KITTLE,  with  a  fort  of  exultation,  re 
lated  the  fubjecl:  of  their  conference  to  her  huf- 
band,  who  had  abfented  himfelf  on  their  fidl 
appearance,  having  formed  fome  fufpicion  of 
the  fmcerity  of  their  friendship,  and  not  being 
willing  to  be  duped  by  their  diflimulation. 
•*'  And  now,"  added  MARIA  fmiling,  "  our 
'*  fears  may  again  fubfide:  Oh  my  dear!  my 
"  happinefs  is  trebled  into  rapture,  by  feeing 
*'  you  and  my  fweet  babes  out  of  danger."  He 
.only  fighed,  and  reaching  his  arm  round  her 
polifhed  neck,  prefled  her  to  his  bofom.    After 
a  fhort  paufe,  *'  My  love,"  faid  he,  <4  be  not 
"  too  confident  of  their  fidelity;    you  furely 
4 1  know  what  a  fmall  dependence  is  to  be  placed 
**  on  their  promifes:    however,  to  appear  fuf- 
*<  pic ious -might  be  fuddenly  fatal  to  \is;  we 
D  "  will 


•£6  THE  HISTORY   OF 

«  will  therefore  fufpend  our  journey  to  Albany 
"  for  a  few  days."  Though  MARIA'S  foul 
'faddened  at  the  conviction  of  this  truth ;  though 
her  fears  again  urged  her  to  propofe  immediate 
flight,  yet  flie  acquiefced ;  and  having  fupped 
\vith  the  family,  this  tender  pair  funk  afkep 
on  the  hofom  of  reft. 

Early  the  next  morning  Mr.  KITTLE  arofe, 
firft  imprefling  a  kifs  on  MARIA'S  foft  cheek, 
^s  (he  {lumbered  with  her  infant  in  her  arms. 
He  then  awaked  his  brother,  reminding  him 
that  he  had  propofed  a  hunting  match  the  pre 
ceding  evening.  "  It  is  true,"  replied  PETER, 
"  but  fince  hoftilities  have  commenced  fo  near 
"  us  as  the  Indians  inform,  I  think  it  rather 
«*  imprudent  to  quit  the  family." — "  Come, 
"  come,"  .replied  the  other,  "  do  not  let  us 
*'  intimidate  the  neighbours  by  cloiflering  our- 
"  felvesup  with  women  and  children." — "  I 
*l  rejecl  the  thought,"  rejoined  PETER,  "  df 
66  being  afraid."  Then  having  drefled  him- 
felf,  while  his  brother  charged  their  pieces, 
they  left  the  houfe,  and  traverfed  the  pathlefs 
grafs  for  many  hours  without  perceiving  any 
thing  hut  fmall  birds,  who  filled  the  fragrant 
air  with  melody.  «  PETER,"  faid  Mr.  KIT 
TLE, 


MARIA  KITTLE,  2f 

TLE;  cafting  his  eyes  around  the  lovely  land- 
ieape,  "  what  a  profufion  of  fweets  does  Na~ 
<tr  ture  exhale  to  pleafe  her  intelligent  crea- 
"  tures !  I  feel  my  heart  expand  with  love  and 
"  gratitude  to  heaven-  every  moment,  nor  can 
**  I  ever  be  grateful  enough.  I  have  health 
"  and  competence,  a  lovely  fond  wife  whofe- 
"  fmile  would  calm  the  rudeil  ilonn  of  paflion, 
"  and  two  infants  hlofToming  into  perfections 
"  all  my  facial  ties  are  yet  unbroken— PETER, 
"  I  anticipate  my  heaven— But  why,  my  bro~ 
"  ther,  do  you  turn  pale  ?  what  dreadful  idea 
"  flitFens  your  features  with  amazement?  what 
6i  in  God's  name  ails  you, :  BET ER?  are  yo^ 
"  unwell?  fit  down  under  this  tree  awhile. J> 
— To  thefe  interrogatories  PETEH  replied,' 
<*  Excufe  my  weaknefs,  T  arn  not  unwell,  but 
u  an  unufual  horror  chilled  my  blood;  I  felto 
*'  as  if  the  damps  of  death  preft  already  round 
4t  my  foul ;  but  the  vapour  is  gone  off  again, 
"  I  feel  quite  better."  Mr.  KITTLE  cheered 
his  brother,  attributing  his  emotion  to  fear ; 
who,  by  this  time,  having  re-aiTumei  his  com-- 
pofure,  entered  into  difcourfe  with  clieerful- 
nefs,  refufmg  to  return  home  without  having, 
killed  any  thing. 

D  2  Then 


28  THE  HISTORY    OF 

Then  rifmg,  they  proceeded  through  lofty 
groves  of  pine,  and  open  fields  that  feemed  to 
bend  under  the  heavy  hand  of  Ceres.  At  laft, 
difappointment  and  fatigue  prevailed  on  them 
to  return  home,  they  had  gone  farther  than 
they  apprehended ;  but  paffing  along  the  bank 
of  the  river  within  a  few  miles  of  Mr.  KIT- 
TLE'S,  they  efpied  a  fat  doe  walking  fecurely 
on  the  beach,  which  PETER  foftly  approach 
ing,  levelled  his  piece  with  fo  good  an  aim  that 
the  animal  dropped  inftantly  at  the  expiofion. 
This  feeming  fuccefs  was,  however,  the  origin 
cf  their  calamities ;  for  immediately  after,  two 
favages  appeared,  directed  in  their  coiirfe  by 
the  firing.  Setting  up  a  loud  yell,  they  ran  up 
to  the  brothers  and  diicharged  their  fire-arms. 
Mr.  KITTLE  ftartcdback,  but  PETER  receiv 
ed  a  brace  of  balls  in  his  bofom.  He  recoiled 
a  few  fleps  back,  and  then  funk  down  incom- 
paffed  by  thofe  -.leaclly  horrors  of  which  in  the 
morning  he  haJ  a  prefentiment.  Mr.  KITTLE 
ftood  awhile  aghail,  like  a  perfon  juft  waked, 
from  a  frightful  dream  ;  but  on  feeing  the  In 
dian  advancing  to  tear  the  fcalp  from  his  dying 
brother,  he  fuddenly  recollected  himfeif,  and 
ihot  a  bullet  through  his  head :  then  grappling 

with 


MARIA  KITTLE >•  S$ 

with  the  other,  who  was  loading  again,  hs 
wrefted  his*  firelock  from  him,  and  felled  him 
to  the  ground  with  the  but-end  of  it.  This  was 
no  time  for  reflexion  or  unavailing  laments ; 
the  danger  was  eminent :  fo  leaving,  the  favages 
for  dead,  with  a  mournful  h'lence  Mr.  KITTLE 
haftened  to  throw.the  deer  from  oft  his  horfe, 
and  laid  his  bleeding  brother  acrofshirn, •••:. 

When  our  fouls  are  gloomy,  they  feem  to 
caft  a  ihade  over  the  objects  that  fin-round,  us* 
and  make  nature  correfpondent  to.  our  feelings : 
ib  Mr.  KITTLE  thought  the- night  fell  with  a 
deeper  gloom  than  ufual.  The  foft  notes  of 
evening  birds  feemed  to  be  the  refpsiifes  of  fa- 
vage  yells.  The  .echo  of  his  tread,  which  h* 
never  before  regarded,  now>rung  difmally  hoi* 
low  in  his  ears.  Even  the  ruftling,  of  the  windi 
through  the  leaves  feemed  attended  with  a  fo* 
lemnity  that  chilled  him  with  cold  tremors. 
As  he  proceeded  with  his  mournful  .charge,  his 
feelings  were  alarmed  for  his  dear 
he  dreaded  the  agitation  and  diftrefs  .this 
venture -would  throw  her  in :  but  it  was 
avoidable  ! 

The  found, of  his  horfes  feet  no  fooner  in* 
the  ears-of  MARIA ,  than  feizing  a  light 
D  3  £he 


3<5  THE"  HISTORY  OF 

{lie  fprung  with  a  joyful  impatience  to  the  door, 
and  was  met  by  her  partner  pale  and  bloody, 
who  endeavoured  to  prevent  too  fudden  a  dif- 
eovery  of  this  calamity.  But  at  the  firft  glance 
ihe  comprehended  the  whole  affair,  and  retir 
ing  a  few  fteps,  with  the  moil  exquifite  agony 
i-n  her  countenance,  "-Oh  Mr.  KITTLE!" 
flie  cried,  clafping  her  hands  together,  "  it  is 
"  all  over — we  are  betrayed— your  brother  is 
"  killed!"--"  Too  true,  oh,  too  fatally  true  1" 
replied  he,  falling  on  his  knees  befide  her  as 
ihe  funk  down,  "  my  angel !  the  very  favages 
"  that  folemnly  engaged  to  protect  us  have  de- 
-*'  prived  him  of  life ;  but  I  am  yet  alive,  my 
"  MARIA,  be  comforted— I  will  inftantly  pro- 
"  cure  carriages,  and  before  morning  you  and 
"  your  innocents  (hall  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
**  their  malevolence." 

By  this  time  the  family  had  croud ed  about 
them,  and  with  grievous  waitings  were,  inquir 
ing  the  particulars  of  this  fad  adventure.  Mr. 
KITTLE  having  related  every  circumftance 
with  brevity,  ordered  the  corpfe  to  be  laid  in 
a  remote  chamber,  defiring  at  the  fame  time  a 
hcrfe  to  be  faddled  for  him.  Then,  more  op- 
prefled  by  his  wife's  griefs  than  his  own,  he 

kd 


MARIA  KITTLE.  31 

led  the  difconfolate  fair  to  her  chamber,  where, 
being  feated,  fhe  fighing  demanded  where  he 
intended  to  go  at  that  time  of  night.  "  Only,'* 
faid  he,  "  to  the  village  of  Schochticook  to  hire 
"  a  couple  of  waggons  ;  I  Ihall  return  in  an 
"  hour  I  hope,  with  a  proper  guard  to  fecure 
*•«  our  retreat  from  this  hoflile  place."  MARIA 
was  iilent ;.  at  length  ilie  burfl  into  a  flood  of 
tears,  which  his  endearments  only  augmented; 
Then,  expoftulating  with  him,  "  Is  it  not 
"  enough,"  cried  {he,  "  that  you  have  efcaped 
"  one  danger,  but  mull  you  be  fo  very  eager 
"  to  encounter  others?  befides,  you  are  fpent 
"  with  for  row  and  fatigue — let  one  of  your 
"  brothers  perform  this  filent  expedition. "~- 
4<  It  is  impoflible,"  replied. the  tender  hufband ; 
**  how  can  I  dare  to  propofe  a  danger  to  them 
"  from  which  I  would  ihrink  niyfelf  ?  their 
"  lives  are  equally  precious  with  mine :  but 
*<  God  may  difappoint  our  fears,  my  love  !" 
He  would  have  continued,  but  his  fpoufe,  rifmg 
from  her  feat,  interrupted  him — "  At  leaft, 
**  my  dear,  before  you  leave  us  give  your  lovely 
44  babes  a  farewell  embrace,  that  if  fate  mould 
"  — fhould  feparate  us,  that  yet  fliail  fweeten 
14  our  hours  cf  abfence."  Here  fhe  found- 

herfek" 


£2  THE  HISTORY  OF 

herfelf  clafped  in  her  confortYaiins,  who  ex-* 
claimed,  "  My  MARIA  !  I  love  you  paffion- 
*'  ately,  and  if  the  leaft  fhadow  of  danger  did 
s*  appear  to  attend  this  night's  travel,  for  your 
"fake,  for  my  WefTed  children's  fake  I  would1 
*'  decline  it :  but  I  have  kft  the  Indians  lifelefs, 
"  who  no  doubt  attacked  us  from  fome  private 
**  pique ;  nor  will  they  be  difcovered  untii 
*'  morning."-—'*  Well  then,','  MARIA  an-* 
fwered,  "  I  no  longer  oppofe  you  ;  forgive  my 
«*  fears."  Meanwhile,  as  flie  ftept  to  the  cra 
dle  for  her  fuckling,  the  fair  ANNA,  who  was 
liilening  at  the  door  anxious  to  hear  her  parents 
fentimentson  this  occafion,  quitted  hesitation 
and  flew  to  them  fwift  as  light;  dropping  on 
her  knees  before  her  father,  and  looked  up  iri 
his  face  with  the  moft  attractive  graces- and  the 
perfuafive  eloquence  of  fimplicity.  Her  neck' 
and  features  were  elegantly  .turned,  her  com 
plexion  fairer  than  the  tuberofe,  and  contrafted 
by  the  moft  -mining  ringlets  of  dark  hair.  Her 
eyes,  whofe  brilliancy  was  foftened  through 
the  medium  of  tears,  fora  while  dwelt  tenderly 
on  his  countenance.  At  length,  with -a' voice 
fcarce  audible,  (he  fighed  out,  "  Oh  papa  !  do 
44  not  leave  us ;  if  any  accident  ihould  happen 

*«  to 


MARIA  KITTLE,  33 

*<  to  you,  mamma  will  die  of  grief,  and  what 
"  will  become,  of  poor  ANNA  and  BILLY? 
"  who  will  care  for  me?  who  will  teach  me 
"  when  my  papa,  rny  mamma's  papa  is  gone  r" 
«  — "My  fweet  child,"  replied  he,  embrac 
ing  her  and  holding  her  to  his  bofom,  '*  there 
**  is  no  danger  ;  I  ihall  return  in  an  hour,  and 
"before  to-morrow1  you  ihall  be  fafe  on  the 
"  plains  of  Albany^  and  my  heart  iliall  exult 
"  over  the  happinefs  of  my  family-." 

Mrs.  KITTLE  now  approached  with  her 
playful  infant  in  her  arms ;  but  its  winning  ac-^ 
tions  extorted  nothing  but  groans  from  her  pain 
ed  bofom,  which  was  more  ftormy  than  On 
tario-Lake,  when  agitated  by  fierce  winds, 
Mr.  KITTLE  perciving  this  uncommon  emo-- 
tion,  gently  took  the  child  from  her,  and  re 
peatedly  kiiTed  it,  while  new  fmiles  dimpled 
its  lovely  afpe&.  "  Oh  !"  faid  he  to  himfelf, 
"  this  gloom  that  darkens  MARIA'S  foul  is  fu- 
'*  pernatural ! — it  feems  dreadfully  portenti- 
"  ous  !— Shall  I  yet  fcay  ?"  But  here  a  fervant 
Informing  him  that  his.  horfe  was  ready,  he 
felumed  at  his  want  of  fortitude ;  and  having 
conquered  his  irrefolution,  after  the  mod  at- 
feeing  and  folemn  parting,  he  quitted  his  houfe* 
n.svef  to  review  it  mote  ! 

MARIA 


3£  THE  HISTORY  OF 

MARIA  then  walked fadly  back  again,  and* 
having  aflembled  the  family  in  a  little  hall, 
they  clofed  and  barred  the  doors.  Mrs.  Co- 
MELIA  KITTLE,  MARIA'S  fifter-ki-law, was 
far  advanced  in  her  pregnancy,  which  increaf- 
ed  her  hufband's  uneafmefs  for  her;  and  they 
were  debating  in  what  manner  to  accommo 
date  her  at  Albany,  when  the  trampling  of  feet 
about  the  houfe^  and  a  yell  of  complicated 
voices,  announced  the  Indians  arrival.'  Struck 
with  horror  and  confirmation,  the  little  family 
crouded  together  in  the  center  of  the  hall,: 
while '  the  fervants  at  this  alarm,  being  in  a 
kitchen  di§ant  from  the  houfe,  faved  them- 
felves  by-  a  precipitate  flight.  The  little  BIL 
LY,  frightened  at  fueh  ^dreadful  founds,  clung 
faft  to  his  mother's  throbbing  breaft,  while 
ANNA,  in-a  filent  agony  of  amazement,  clafp- 
ed  her;  trembling  knees.  The  echo  of  their 
yells  yet  rung  in  long  vibrations  through  the 
foreft,  when,  with  a  thundering  peal  of  ftrokes 
at  the  door,  they  demanded  entrance.  Diftrac- 
tion  and  defpair  fit  upon  every  face.  MARIA- . 
and  her  companions  gazed  wildly  at  each  other,- 
till,  upon  repeated  menaces  and  efforts  to  break 
open  the  door,  GOMELIA'S  hufband,  giving  all- 

for 


MARIA  KITTLE.  25 

•for  loft,  leifurely  advanced  to  the  door.  Co- 
iMELiA  feeing  this,  uttered  a  great  ihtiek,  and 
cried  out,  "  O  God  i  what  are  your  doing,  my 
•*<  rafh,  rafh,  -unfortunate  hufband !  you  will 
* '  be  facrinced ! ' '  Then  falling  on  her  knees, 
fhe  caught  hold  of  his  hand  and  fobbed  out, 
'*'  O  pity  me !  have  mercy  on  yourfelf,  on  me, 
-"  on  my  child !"— "  Alas!  my' love,"  faidhe, 
half  turning  with  a  look  of  diftradtion,  "  what 
*'  can  we  do?  let  us  be  refigned  to  the  will  dt 
*'  God."  So  faying  he  unbarred  the  door,  and 
that  inftant  received  a  fatal  bullet  in  his  bdfom, 
and  fell  backward  writhing  in  agonies  of  death ; 
the  reft  recoiled  at  this  horrible  fpeftacle,  and 
huddled  in  a  corner,  fending  forth  the  moil 
piercing  cries :  in  the  interim  the  favages  rufli- 
ing  in  with  great  ihouts,  proceeded  to  mangle 
rthe  corpfe,  and  having  made  an  incifion  round 
his  head  with  a  crooked  knife,  thdy  tugged 
.off  his  bloody  fcalp  with  barbarous  triumph. 
While  this  was  perpetrating,  an  Indian,  hi- 
deoufly  painted,  ftrode  ferociouflyuptoCoME- 
LI  A,  '(who  funk  away  at  the  fight,  and  fainted 
on  a  chair)  and  cleft  her  white  forehead  deep- 
ly  with  his  tomahack.  Her  fine  azure  eyes 
;jufl  opened,  and  then  fuddenly  doling  for  ever, 

me 


•«6  THE  HISTORY  OF 

/he  tumbled  lifelefs  at  his  feet.  His  fangni* 
nary  foul  was  not  yet  fatislied  with  blood  ;  he 
deformed  her  lovely  body  with  deep  gaihes ; 
and,  tearing  her  unborn  babe  away,  dafhed  it 
to  pieces  againft  the  ftone  wall;  with  many 
additional  circumftances  of  infernal  cruelty. 

During  this  horrid  carnage,  the  dead  were 
{tripped,  and  dragged  from  the  houfe,  when 
one  of  4ie  hellifh  band  advanced  to  MARIA, 
who  circling  her  babes  with  her  white  arms, 
was  fending  hopelefs  petitions  to  heaven,  and 
bemoaning  their  cruelly  loft  fitxtat ion :  as  he 
approached,  expedling  the  fatal  ftroke,  fhe  en 
deavoured  to  guard  her  children,  and  with  fup- 
-plicating  looks,  implored  for  mercy.  The  fa- 
vage  attempted  not  .to  ftrike ;  but  the  aftoniihed 
ANNA  flickered  herfelf  behind  her  mamma, 
while  her  blooming  fuckling  quitting  her 
breaft,  gazed  with  a  pleafing  wonder  on  the 
painted  flranger. — MARIA  foon  recognized 
her  old  friend  that  prefented  her  with  the  belt, 
through  the  loads  of  fliells  and  feathers  that 
difguifed  him.  This  was  no  time,  however, 
to  irritate  him,  by  reminding  him  of  his  pro- 
rnife ;  yet,  guefTing  her  thoughts,  he  antici 
pated  her  rernonftrancc.  "  MARIA,"  faid  he, 
44  be  not  afraid,  I  havepromifed  to  protect  you  ; 

**  you 


MAUIA  KKTTLE.  37 

«  you  (hall  live  and  dance  with  us  around  the 
**  fire  at  Canada:  but  you  have  one  fmall  in- 
*'  cumbrance,  which,  if  not  removed,  will 
**  much  impede  your  progrefs  thither."  So 
laying  he  feized  her  laughing  babe  by  the  wrifts, 
and  forcibly  endeavoured  to  draw  him  from  her 
arms.  At  this,  terrified  beyond  conception,  me 
exclaimed,  "  O  God !  leave  me,  leave  me  my 
*'  child  !  he  (hall  not  go,  though  a  legion  of  de~ 
«'  vils  ihould  try  to  feparate  us  !"  Holding  him 
{till  fall,  while  the  Indian  applied  his  flrength 
to  tear  him  away,  gnaming  his  teeth  at  her  op- 
pofition ;  "  Help  !  God  of  heaven  !"  fcreamed 
fhe,  "  help  !  have  pity,  have  mercy  on  this 
"  infant !  O  God  !  O  Chrift  !  can  you  bear 
*4  to  fee  this  ?  O  mercy  !  mercy  !  mercy  !  let 
"  a  little  fparkof  companion  fave  this  inofFend- 
**  ing,  this  lovely  angel !"  By  this  time  the 
breathlefs  babe  dropt  its  head  on  its  bofom  ;  tlie 
writs  were  nigh  pinched  off,  and  feeing  him  juil 
expiring,  with  a  dreadful  fhriek  me  refigned 
him  to  the  mercilefs  hands  of  the  favage,  who 
inflantly  daflied  his  little  forehead  againft  the 
flones,  and  cafting  his  bleeding  body  at  fome 
diftancc  from  the  houfc,  left  him  to  make  his 
exit  in  feeble  and  unheard  groans. — Then  in- 
E  deed, 


38  THE  HISTORY  'OF 

deed,  in  the  unutterable  anguifh  of  her  foal, 
fhe  fell  proflrate,  and  rending  away  her  hair, 
fhe  roared  out  her  forrows  with  a  voice  louder 
than  natural,  and  rendered  awfully  hollow  by 
too  great  an  exertion.  "  O  barbarians!" 
fhe  exclaimed,  "  furpa fling  devils  in  wicked- 
"  nefs !  fo  may  a  tenfold  night  of  mifery  en- 
11  wrap  your  black  fouls,  as  you  have  deprived 
*'  the  babe  of  my  bofom,  the  comfort  of  my 
"  cares,  my  blefTcd  cherub,  of  light  and  life — 
"  O  hell !  are  not  thy  flames  impatient  to 
"  cleave  the  center  and  engulph  thefe  wretches 
* '  in  thy  ever  burning  waves  ?  are  there  no  thun- 
*•*  ders  in  Heaven — no  avenging  Angel — no 
*'  God  .to  .take  notice  of  fuch  Heaven  defying 
"  cruelties  ?"  Then  rufhing  to  her  dead  infant 
with  redoubled  cries,  and  clapping  her  hands, 
fhe  laid  herfelf  over  his  mangled  body  ;  again 
ibftened  in  tears  and  .moans,  fhe  wiped  the 
blood  from  his  ghaftly  countenance,  and  preft 
him  to  her  heaving  bofom,  alternately  carefling 
him  and  her  trembling  ANNA,  who,  clinging 
to  her  with  bitter  wailings,  and  kifling  her 
hands  and  face,  entreated  her  to  implore  the  fa- 
vages  for  mercy.  "  Do,  my  angel  mamma," 
fhe  urged,  "  do  beg  them  yet  to  pity— beg 
"  themyettofave  youformypoor,  poor  papas 

"fake! 


MARIA  KITTLE.  39 

"  fake  !— Alas !  if  we  are  all  killed,  his  heart 
"  will  break  !—  Oh  !  they  can't  be  rocks  and 
"  ftones  ! — Don't  cry  mamma,  they  will 
"  fpare  us!"— Thus  the  little  orator  endea 
voured  to  confole  her  afflicted  mother;  but 
their  melancholy  endearments  were  foon  in 
terrupted  by  the  relentlefs  favages,  who  hav 
ing  plundered  the  houfe  of  every  valuable  thing 
that  was  portable,  returned  to  MARIA,  and 
rudely  catching  her  arm,  commanded  her  to 
follow  them  ;  but  repulfmg  them  with  the  bold- 
nefs  of  defpafr,  *'  Leave  me,  leave  me,"  me 
faid>  "  I  cannot  go — I  never  will  quit  my 
"  murdered  child  !  Too  cruel  in  your  mercies', 
"  you  have  given  me  life  only  to  prolong  my 
"  miferies !" — Meanwhile  the  lovely  ANNA, 
terrified  at  the  hoftile  appearance  ot  the  enemy, 
left  her  mamma  ft  niggling  to  diiengage  her- 
felf  from  the  Indians,  and  fled  precipitately  to 
the  houfe.  She  had  already  concealed  herfelf 
in  a  clofet,  when  Mrs.  KITTLE  purfuing  her, 
was  intercepted  by  flames,  the  favages  having 
fired  the  houfe.  The  wretched  child  foon  dif- 
covered  her  deplorable  fituation,  and  almoft  fuf- 
focated  by  the  fmoke,  with  piercing  cries  called 
fojr  help  to  her  dear,  dear  mother.— Alas! 
K  2.  what 


40  THE   HISTORY  .OF 

what  could  the  unhappy  parent  do  ?     whole 
iheets  of  flames  rolled  between  them,  while 
in  a  phrenzy  of  grief  (he  (creamed  out,  "  O 
"  my  laft  treafure !  my  beloved  ANNA!   try 
"  to  efcape  the  devouring  fire — come  to  me 
•'  my  fweet  child— the  Indians  will  not  kill 
"  us — O  my  perilling  babe!    have  pity  on 
t(  your  mother— do  not  leave  me  quite  defti- 
"  tute  !"     Then  turning  to  the  calm  villains 
who  attended  her,  ihe  cried,  "  Why  do  you 
44  not  attempt  to  refcue  my  fweet  innocent? 
44  can  your  unfeeling  hearts  not  bear  to  leave 
**  me  cne— a  fo!itr.ry  fmgle  one?"     Again 
calling  to  her  ANNA,  (he  received  no  anfwer, 
\v iiich  being  a  prefumption  of  her  death,  the 
Indians  obliged  MARIA  and  her  brother  KEN- 
R y  to  quit  the  hcufe,  which  they  effected  with 
fome  difficulty,   tlie  glowing  beams  falling  a- 
round  them  and  thick  volumes  of  fmoke  ob- 
icuring  their  paffage.     The  flames  now  (truck 
a  long  fplendor  through  thejiumid  atmofpliere, 
and  bluihed  to  open  the  tragical  fcene  on  the 
face  of  heaven.    They  had  fcarce  advanced  two 
hundred  yards  with  their  reluctant  captives, 
when  the  flaming  ftruclure  tumbled  to  the  earth 
with  a  dreadful  cra(h.     Our  travellers  by  in- 

ftindt 


MARIA  KITTLE,  41 

flinch  turned  theii;  eyes  to  the  mournful  blaze ; 
and  MARIA,  burfting  afreili  into  grievous  la 
mentations,  cried,  "  There,  there  my  brother, 
"  my  children  are  wrapt  in  arching  ilieets  of 
t(  flames,  that  ufed  to  be  circled  in  my  arms  ! 
**  they  are  entombed  in  ruins-  that  breathed 
"  their  flumbers  on  my  bofom  !   yet,  oh  !  their 
"  fpotlefs  fouls  even  now  rife  from  this  chaos 
"  of  blood  and  fire,  and  are  pleading  our  injur- 
- "  ed  caufe  before  our  God,  my  brother  ! "    He 
replied  only  in  fighs  and  groans ;  he  fcarcely 
Heard  her  ;  horror  had  froze  up  the  avenues  of 
his  foul ;  and  all  amazed  and  trembling,  he  fol 
lowed  his  leaders  like  a  perfon  in  a  troublefome 
dream. 

The  diftant  flames  now  caft  a  fainter  light, 
and' the  northern  breeze  bent  the  columns  of T' 
{moke. over  the  fouth  horizon.     Sad  and  be 
nighted  they  wandered  through  ahnoli  impe 
netrable  fwamps,   forded  the  broad  ft  ream  of ' 
Tomhanick  and  the  rapid  river  of  Hofack  \  they, 
paffed  through  .deferted  fettlements,  where  the 
yelling  of  folitary  dogs  increafed  the  folemnity 
of  midnight,  nor  halted  till  the  ffors,  emitting 
a  feebler  luftre,  prefaged  the  approach  of  day. 
MARIA,  overcome  by  forrow  andfatigue,  im- 
E  3 


42  THE  HISTORY  OF 

mediately  funk  helplefs  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,, 
•while  the  favages  (who  were  fix  in  number) 
kindled  a  fire,  and  prepared  their  meal,  (in  a 
calabafh)  which  confifted  only  of  fome  parched 
maize  pulverized  and  enriched  with  the  fat  of 
bears  flefh.  Obferving  MARIA  had  fallen 
aileep,  they  offered  not  to  difturb  her,  but  in 
vited  HENRY  KITTLE  to  partake  of  their  re- 
pa  ft.  He  durft  not  refufe  them ;  and  having 
fwsllowed  a  few  mcuthfuls  of  their  unpalatable, 
food,  and  accepted  of  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  he  de- 
fired  leave  to  repofe  himfelf,  which  being  rea 
dily  granted,  they  foon  followed  his  example^ 
and  funk  aileep,  leaving  two  centinels  to  guard 
againft  furprife,  which  precaution  they  always 
make  ufe  of. 

I  am  forry,  dear  SUSAN,  to  quit  MARIA  in 
faJs  interefting  part  of  her  hiilory  ;  but  order 
requires  that  we  mould  now  return  to  her 
fpoufc,  whom  we  left  on  his  way  through  the 
wood. 

The  village  of  Schochticock  is  fituatcd  on  a 
circular  plain >  furrounded  by  high  hills,  rifmg 
in  form  of  an  amphitheatre.  Mr.  KITTLE  had 
juil  gained  the  verge,  when,  chancing  to  cafl 
his  eyes  around,  he  perceived  the  whole  fouth- 

ern 


MARIA  KITTLE.  .       43 

ern  hemifphere  fuddenly  illuminated  with  a 
bright  blaze ;  however,  being  accuftomed  to 
the  foreft's  being  often  fired  to  clear  it  from  the 
under-wood,  he  was.  not  much  furprifed,  but 
proceeded  to  defcend  the  hilL  On  his  arriving 
with  the  account  of  his  brother's  murder,  the 
place  was  put  in  the  higheft  commotion;  the 
men  fitting  tip  their  arms,  and  true  women  cla 
mouring  about  them,  highly  importunate  to  be 
removed  to  Albany ;  but  the  night  being  very 
dark,  this  manoeuvre  was  deferred  till  morn 
ing  ;  nor  could  Mr.  KITTLE  prevail  on  a  fmgle 
perfon  to  return  with  him  during  the  darknefs : 
he  felt  himfelf  ftrangely  agitated  at  this  difap- 
pointment,  and  refufing  to  repofe  himfelf,  with 
great  Impatience  he  watched  the  firfl  orient 
beam  of  Phofphor,  which  appearing,  he  fat 
off  for  fiome  with  two  waggons  and  a  guard 
of  three  Indians.  As  he  approached  his  late 
happy  dwelling,  his  bofom  dilated  with  the 
pleafmg  hope  of  foon  extricating  his  beloved 
family  from  danger1;  he  chid  the  flownefs  of 
the  carriages,  and  felt  impatient  to  diilipate  the 
apprehenfions  of  MARIA,  to  kifrtlie  pendant 
tear  from  her  eye,  and  prcfs  his  fportive  inno 
cents  to  his  bofom.  While  thefe  bright  ideas 

played 


44  THE   HISTORY'  Of 

played  round  his  foul,  he  lifted  up  his  eyes, 
and  through  an-  opening  in  the  woods  beheld 
his  farm:    but  what  language  can  exprefs  his 
fnrprife  and  confirmation  at  feeing  his  habita^- 
tion  fo  fuddenly  defolated  !   a  loud  exclamation 
of  amaze  burft  from  the  whole  company  at  fo 
unexpected  a  view — the  blood  revolted  from 
Mr.  KITTLE'S  cheek— his  heart  throbbed  un^ 
der  the  big  emotion,  and  all  aghaft,  fpurring 
on  his  horfe,  he  entered  the  inclofure  with 
full  fpeed.— Stop  here  unhappy  man  !  here  let 
the  fibres  of  thy  heart  crack  with  excruciat 
ing  mifery— -let  the  cruel  view  of  mangled 
wretches,  fo  nearly  allied  to  thee,  extort  drops- 
of  blood  from  thy  cleaving  bofom  ! — It  did— 
it  did.    Uttering  a  deep  groan  he  fell  infenfible 
from  his  horfe,  while  his  attendants,  haftening 
towards  him,  were  {nocked  beyond  concep 
tion  at  the  difmal  fpc&acle  ;  and,  ftarting  back 
with  averted  eyes  from  the  dead,  were  thun 
der  ilruck,    not  having   power   to   move  or 
ipeak.    After  awhile  two  Indians  (who  being 
vifed  to   fanguinary  fcenes,    recovered  them- 
felves  nril)  took  a  blanket,  and  walking  back 
ward  to  the   mangled   COMELIA,   threw   it 
over  her  naked  body  ;  the  others  then  timidly 

advanced. 


MARIA  KITTLE,  4£ 

advanced,  and  Mr.  KITTLE  opening  his  eyes, 
groaned  again  bitterly  ;  then  railing  himfelf 
on  his  knees,  with  a  look  of  unutterable  an- 
guiih,  he  called  upon  his  dear  MARIA.  Alas ! 
no  voice  but  the  folemn  repetition  of  his  own 
cries  was  articulated  to  him :  then  rifmg  with 
an  air  of  diiira&ion,  he  flalked  round  the 
bloody  fcene,  and  examined  the  dead  bodies; 
firft  uncovering  the  pale  vifage  of  COMELIA, 
he  furveyed  in  filence  her  distorted  features ; 
but  perceiving  it  was  not  MARIA,  he  gently 
laid  the  cloth  over  again,  and  turning  furi- 
oufly,  caught  up  his  ghaftly  infant,  whofe 
little  body  was  black  with  contufions,  and  his 
fkull  horribly  fractured.  Almoft  fainting  un 
der  his.  mournful  load,  and  {Daggering  at  the 
dreadful  difcovery,  he  depofited  it  again  on. 
the  bloody  earth,  and  clapping  his  hands  to 
gether  repeatedly, with  violence,  "  O  hell! 
"  hell!"  he  cried,-""  you  cannot  infli&  tor- 
"  ments  fo  cxquifite  as  thofe  I  now  fuffer ! 
"  how  am  I  crumed  to  the  center!  how 
"  deeply  am  I  degraded  below  the  worms  of 
"  the  fod  !  O  my  children!  my  children! 
"  where  are  you  now?  O  my  wife!  my 
"  MARIA  !  the  beloved  of  my  boibm,  are  you 

"  too. 


46  THE  HISTORY   OT 

"  too  fallen  a  facrifice?  Why  do  I  furvive 
"  thefe  miferies,  my  God  ?  how  can  mortality 
"  fupport  them?  Burft — burft  mymrinking 
"  heart,  and  punifh  a  wretch  for  not  having 
"  died  in  the  defence  of  fuch  lovely  and  in- 
**  nccent  beings  !  Oh  !  why  was  I  abfent  in 
"  this  fatal  hour?  why  did  not  their  groans 
"  vibrate  on  my  foul  'that  I  might  have  flown 
"  to  their  aid  ?"  Thus  wildly  lamenting  and 
wandering  among  the  fmoaking  ruins,  he 
picked  up  fom'e  of  the  calcined  bones  of  his 
once  beautiful  ANNA.  At  this  fight  defpair 
jQiook  his  foul  afrefh,  new  agonies  convulfed 
his  features,  and  dropping  the  fad  evidence  of 
liis  miferies,  he  extended  his  arms  to  Heaven, 
and  roared  out,  "  Revenge!  great  God!  re- 
'*  venge  if  thou  art  juft  and  kind  as  reprefent- 
"  ed !  Oh  !  that  I  had  the  power  of  an  arch- 
*'  angel  to  thunder  eternal  horrors  on.  the 
"  guilty  wretches  who  have  blafted  the  bud- 
*'  of  my  happinefs,  who  have  darkened  the 
"  brighteft  eyes  that  ever  opened  on  the  light!" 
The  men  here  interfering,  to  confole  him 
obferved,  the  bones  were  probably  thofe  of  his 
brother  PETER;  but  on  rinding  his  fkeleton 
entire,  Mr.  KITTLE  infiiledthat  it  mull  have 

been 


MARIA  KITTLE.  47 

"been  MARIA  and  ANNA,,  who,  having  hid 
themfelves,  had  doubtlefs  periihed  in  the  flames. 
Again,  in  the  furious  extravagance  of  paffion, 
lie  tore  the  hair  from  his  head,  and  cafting 
himfelf  proftrate  on  the  afhes,  he  gathered 
the  crumbling  bones  to  his  bofom,  while  the 
big  drops  of  anguifh  ifTued  at  every  pore,  till 
life,  unable  longer  to  fuftain  the  mental  con 
flict,  fufpended  her  powers,  and  once  more 
deprived  him  of  fenfation.  His  companions 
having  laid  him  on  a  waggon,  now  conferred 
together  in  what  manner  to  proceed,  and  ap 
prehending  an  attack  from  the  favages,  they 
4.inanimoufly  concluded  to  lay  the  dead  bodies 
•on  the  remaining  carriage,  and  make  the  beft 
of  their  way  to  Schochticook,  which  they  ac 
cordingly  performed  with  great  filence  and 
expedition. 

You  may  judge,  my  dear,  what  a  panic  the 
appearance  of  this  mournful  cavalcade  ftruck 
over  the  inhabitants  of  this  defencelefs  village. 
Mr.  KITTLE  was  gently  laid  on  a  bed,  and 
^being  let  blood,  his  refpiration  became  lefs 
obftru£ted,  though  he  continued  fenfelefs  till 
.his  unfortunate  family  were  interred.  Six 
weeks  elapfed  before  he  recovered  any  degree 

of 


4*  THE  HISTORY    OF 

of  flrength;  but  even  then  he  appeared  pale 
and  emaciated,  like  a  fecond  LAZARUS  ;  his 
difpofition  was  entirely  changed,  hislooks  were 
fierce,  his  attitudes  wild  and  extravagant,  and 
his  convention,  which  formerly  was-fenfible, 
commanding  attention  by  a  mufical  voice,  now 
\vas  incoherent,  and  his  cadence  deep  and  hol 
low,  rather  infpiring  terror  than  any  pleafing 
fenfation.  Thirfting  for  revenge,  and  perceiv-* 
ing  that  folitude  only  tended  to  corrode  his  mo 
ments  with  the  blackeft  melancholy,  he  foon 
after  entered  the  Britilh  ferviee  in  the  capacity 
of  gentleman  volunteer,  and  fignalized  him- 
felf  by  his  prudence  and  intrepidity,  attract 
ing  the  particular  notice  of  his  officers,  who 
being  affected  with  his  misfortunes,  proffered 
their  fervices  to  him  with  fo  much  friend/hip 
and  candour,  as  obliged  him  to  accept  of  them, 
and  yet  lightened  the  obligation. 

But  doubtlefs,  my  dear,  you-r  generous  fen- 
fibility  is  alarmed  at  my  filence  about  Mrs. 
KITTLE,;  I  think  we  left  her  repofmg  under 
a  tree :  {he  was  the  firft  that  awaked  as  the 
fun  began  to  exhale  the  cryftal  globules  of 
morning,  when  half  rifmg,  and  reclining  on 
her  elbow,  ihc  furveyed  the  lovely  landfcape 

around 


MARIA  KITTLE.  49 

her  with  a  deep  figh  ;  they  were  on  an 
eminence  that  commanded  an  unlimited  prof- 
pect  of  the  country  every  way.  The  birds 
were  cheerful;  the  deer  bounded  feaiiefs  over 
the  hills ;  the  meadows  blumed  with  the  ena 
mel  of  FLORA:  but  grief  had  faddened  every 
object  in  her  fight ;  the  whole  creation  feemed 
a  dark  blank  to  the  fair  mourner.  Again  re 
collection  unlocked  the  flukes  of  her  eyes,  and 
her  foft  complaints  difturbed  her  favage  com 
panions,  who,  rifmg  and  kindling  up  the  dying 
embers,  began  to  prepare  their  victuals,  which 
they  invited  her  to  partake  of.  This  me  de 
clined  with  vimble  deteftation  ;  and  turning  to 
her  brother,  with  the  dignity  of  confcious  merit 
in  diftrefs,  "  No,7'  faid  me,  "  I  never  will 
"  receive  a  morfel  from  thofe  bloody  hands  yet 
**  dropping  with  recent  murder  ! — let  me  pe- 
"  rifh — let  the  iron  hand  of  famine  rirft  pinch 
'"  out  my  vitals  and  fend  me  after  my  chil- 
"dren!"  Notwithstanding  this,  HEN-RY 
added  his  felicitations  that  (he  ihould  accept  of 
feme  refrefhment,  reminding  her  of  the  con- 
fcquence  of  her  fatal  refolution,  which  could 
be  deemed  no  otherwife  th&n  fuicide.  Find 
ing  this  had  no  effect,  he  tried  to  touch  her 
feelings  on  a  fofier  key— «  Remember,  MA- 


<[O  THE  HISTORY   OF 

€t  RIA,"  faid  he,  "  you  have  a  tender hufband 
*'  yet  living;  would  you  wifh  to  deprive  him 
*'  of  every  earthly  confolation?  Would  you 
"  add  affliction  to  affliction,  and  after  he 
**  has  performed  the  forrowful  obfequies  of 
*'  his  children,  to  crufli  all  his  remaining  hope 
*'  by  the  news  of  your  voluntary  death  ?  No, 
"  live  my  filler !  be  allured  he  will  foon  get 
"  us  exchanged,  when  foft  fympathies  fhall 
*'  walh  away  your  forrows ;  and  after  a  few 
*'  years,  who  knows  but  the  fmiles  of  a  new 
"  lovely  progeny  may  again  dawn  a  paradife 
*'  of  happinefs  on  you."  MARIA  was  arle6t- 
ed,  and  half  raifing  her  eyes  from  the  earth, 
fhe  replied,  "  O  my  brother  !  how  confoling 
c<  do  your  words  fink  on  my  heart  !  though 
"  my  reafon  tells  me  your  arguments  are  im- 
c<  probable  and  fallacious,  yet  it  foothes  the 
**  tempeft  of  my  foul — I  will  try  to  live— 
*'  perhaps  I  may  again  behold  my  dear,  dear, 
"  dear  hufband !"  Here  a  flood  of  tears  inter 
rupted  her. 

As  this  converfation  was  held  in  Englifh, 
the  favages  were  inquifitive  to  know  the  fub- 
je6l  of  it,  at  the  fame  time  enjoining  them  both 
never  to  utter  a  fyllable  in  their  prefence  ex 
cept 


MARIA  KITTLE.  $£ 

cept  in  their  own  uncouth  dialed,  which,  as 
they  perfectly  underftoocl,  they  could  not  ex- 
cufe  themfelvcs  from.  HENRY  then  informed 
them  that  his  fifter,  obje6ling  to  their  method 
of  preparing  food,  had  deftred  him  to  prevail 
with  them  to  indulge  her  in  dreffing  her  meals 
herfelf.  This  they  readily  granted,  and  farther 
to  ingratiate  themfelves  in  the  prisoners'  fa 
vour,  they  diipalched  a  young  Indian  to  hunt 
for  partridges  or  quails  in  the  groves  adjoining 
them  :  He  inftantly  returned  with  a  brood  of 
wood-pigeons,  fcarcely  fledged,  which  he  pre- 
lented  to  HENRY,  who  cleaned  and  broiled 
them  on  fticksr  with  an  officious  folicitude  to 
pleafe  his  fiHerr  which  ihe  obferved  wjth  a 
look  of  gratitude,  and  taking  a  pigeon  from  the 
flick,  began  to  eat  more  from  complaifance 
than  inclination.  HENRY  was  delighted  at  her 
ready  acquiefcence,  and  their  repafl  being  end 
ed,  they  proceeded  on  their  tirefome  journey 
with  lefs  repining  than  the  preceding  night. 
MARIA  was  exempted  from  carrying  a  bur 
den,  yet  ihe  found  the  fatigue  almoft  intolera 
ble.  They  continually  paffed  through  a  fcene 
of  conflagration,  the  favages  firing  every  cot 
tage  in  their  way,  whofe  mournful  blaze  catch- 
F  2  ins: 


52  THE  HISTORY    OF 

Ing  the  dry  fields  of  grain,  .would  fcorch  off 
hundreds  of  acres  in  a  few  moments,  and  form 
a  burning  path  for  their  deftroyers.     As  the 
fun  advanced  to  his  zenith,  its  rays  beat  fierce 
ly  on  our  travellers,  augmented  by  the  crack 
ling  flames  around  them  ;  when  meeting  with 
a  cool  Art-am  of  water,   MARIA  was  com 
manded  to  fit  down  (being  over-heated)  while 
the  reft  approached  the   rivulet:  the   Indian 
that  guarded  MARIA  was  {looping  down  to 
drink,  when  a  loud  ruftling  among  the  leaves 
and  trampling  of  bumes  attracted  his  attention  ; 
he  liflened  awhile  feemingly  much  alarmed, 
then  ftarting  up  fuddchly,  he  flew  to  MARIA, 
and  caught  hold  of  her  hair,  aiming  his  hatchet 
at  her  head :  the  confequence  was  obvious,  and 
her  fate  feemed  inevitable ;  yet,  with  a  ftoical 
compofure,  fhe  folded  her  arms  acrofs,  and 
waited  the  fatal  ftroke  with  perfecl:  refigna- 
tion  ;  but  while  the  weapon  was  yet  fufpended 
over  her,  chancing  to  look  around,  he  perceived 
the  noife  to  proceed  from  a  large  deer,  whofe 
antlers  were  entangled  in  the  branches  of  a 
thicket.     Though  an  uncivilized  inhabitant 
of  the  fcreft,  he  bluflied  at  his  precipitancy, 
and  returning  the  inftrument   of  death  to  his 

girdle, 


MARIA  KITTLE.  53 

girdle,  after  fome  heii Cation  made  this  apology  i 
«<  MARIA,  this  fudden  difcovery  is  well  for 
«'  you;  I  thought  we  had  been  purfued,  and 
<c  we  never  fuffer  our  prifoners  to  be  re-taken ; 
"  however,  I  was  imprudent  to  attempt  your 
"  life  before  there  was  a  probability  of  your 
*'  being  refcued:"  then  defiring  her  to  rife 
and  drink,  he  quickly  fhot  the  deer,  his  affoci- 
ates  helping  him  to  fkin  it.  Jnftead  of  quench 
ing  her  thirft  {lie  fat  down  penfive  on  the  flow 
ery  margin,  cafting  he  eyes  carelefsly  on  the 
ftream :  fhe  knew  not  whether  to  efteem  her 
late  deliverance  from  death  a  happy  provi 
dence  or  protraction  of  mifery.  Obierving 
the  fpotted  trout,  and  other  rim,  to  dart  fpor- 
trvely  acrofs  the  water,  fhe  could  not  help 
exclaiming,  "Happyi  happy  animals!  you 
'•  have  not  the  fatal  gift  of  reafcn  to  embit-  ' 
'*•  ter  your  pleariires ;  you  cannot  anticipate 
<4  your  difficulties  by  apprehenilon,  or  pro- 
"  long  them  by  recollection;  incapable  of  of- 
*'  fending  your  Creator,  the  bleffings  of  your 
<4  exiftence  are  fecured  to  yon  :  Alas  !  I  envy 
'*  the  meaneft  among  ye  1"  A  gufh  of  rears  • 
concluded  her  foliloquy ;  and  being  called  to 
attend  the  company,  fhe  arofe,  and  they  began. 
F  3  their 


54  TH£  HISTORY    OF 

their  journey  for  the  afternoon.  HENRY  de- 
firing  to  have  a  piece  of  venifon  (having  left 
it  behind,  feldom  incommoding  themfelves 
with  more  than  the  hide  and  tallow)  they  re 
turned  and  obliged  him  with  a  haunch,  which 
was  very  fat :  at  the  next  interval  of  travel  he 
drefTed  it  for  himfelf  and  MARIA.  In  the 
evening  they  crofled  the  river  fomewhat  be 
low  Fort-Edward,  in  a  canoe  left  hid  under 
fome  bumes  for  that  purpofe.  They  obferved 
the  moft  profound  filence  until  they  entered 
the  woods  again ;  but  it  was  very  late  before 
they  halted,  which  they  did  in  a  deep  hollow, 
furrounded  by  pines  whofe  tops  feemed  to  be 
loft  in  the  clouds.  It  was  neceffary  here  to 
light  a  fire,  for  the  wolves  howled  moft  dread 
fully,  and  the  whole  foreft  rung  with  the  cries 
of  wild  beads  of  various  forts.  The  confines 
of  hell  could  not  have  given  MARIA  more 
difmal  ideas  than  her  prefent  iituation:  the 
horrid  gloom  of  the  place,  the  fcowling  looks 
of  her  murderous  companions,  the  fhrill 
{bricks  of  owls,  the  loud  cries  of  the  wolf, 
and  mournful  fcreams  of  panthers,  which  were 
redoubled  by  diftant  echoes  as  the  terrible 
founds  feemed  dying  away,  ihook  her  frame 

with 


MARIA  KITTLE.  £5 

with  cold  tremors — fhe  funk  under  the  op- 
preflion  of  terror,  and  almoft  fainted  in, 
HENRY'S  arms;  however,  on  perceiving  the 
beafts  durft  not  approach  the  light,  but  began 
to  retire,  fhe  became  a  little  more  aflured, 
and  helped  HENRY  to  ere£t  a  booth  of  pine 
branches,  making  a  bed  of  the  fame  materials 
in  it  while  he  prepared  their  flipper:  having 
eaten,  and  kindled  a  large  fire  in  the  front  of 
her  arbour,  fhe  laid  down  and  foon  fell  in  a 
deep  fleep.  She  felt  herfelf  refrefhed  by  this 
unexpected  repofe,  arid  the  next  morning, 
with  forne  alacrity,  continued  her  journey, 
hoping  at  laft  to  arrive  at  fome  Chriftian  fet- 
tlement.  Arriving  at  Lake-Champlain,  they 
raifed  a  wigwam  on  the  bank,  expecting  the 
coming  of  Indians  from  the  cppofite  fliore  to 
carry  them  over. 

Here  our  unfortunate  captives  were  ftript  of 
their  habits,  already  rent  to  pieces  by  briers, 
and  attired  each  with  remnants  of  old  blankets. 
In  this  new  drefs  Mrs.  KITTLE  ventured  to 
expoftulate  with  the  favages,  but  it  was  talk 
ing  to  the  ftormy  ocean ;  her  complaints  ferv- 
ed  only  to  divert  them  ;  fo  retiring  among  the 
buflies,  flie  adjufled  her  coarfe  drefs  fomewhat 

decently, 


5  THE  HISTORY   OF 

decently,  and  then  feating  herfelf  filently  un 
der  a  fp reading  tree,  indulged  herfelf  in  the 
luxury  of  forrow.    HENRY,  fenfible  that  they 
expected  more  fortitude  from  him,  and  that  if 
he  funk  under  his  adverfe  fortune  he  fhould 
be  worfe  treated,  affe&ed  to  be  cheerful ;  he 
a/lifted  them  in  catching  falmon,  with  which 
the  lake  abounds ;  an  incredible  quantity  of 
wild  fowl  frequenting  the  lake  alfo,  he  laid5 
{hares  for  thofe  of  the  lefler  fort,   (not  being 
allowed  fire-arms)   and  fueeeeded  fo  well,  that 
his   dexterity   was  highly  commended-,    and? 
night  coming  on,  they  regaled  themfelves  ori' 
the  fruits  of  their  induflry.     The  night  was 
exceedingly  dark,  but  calm  ;  a  thick  mift  ho 
vered  over  the  woods,   and  the  final!  ridgy 
waves  foftly  rolled  to  the  fhore,  when  fudden- 
ly  a  large  meteor,  or  fiery  exhalation,  paffed 
by  them  with  furprifing  velocity,  calling  on 
every  fide  fhowers  of  brilliant  fparkles.     At 
fight  of  this  phenomenon  the  Indians  put  their 
heads  between  their  knees,  crying  out  in  a  la 
mentable  voice,  "  Do  not !  do  not !  do  not !" 
continuing  in  the  fame  attitude  until  the  va 
pour  difappeared.     HENRY,  with  ibme  fur- 
prife,  demanded  the  reafon  of  this  exclama- 

tioht 


MARIA  KITTLE.  gf 

tion ;  to  which  they  replied,  "  What  he  had 
"  feen  was  a  fiery  dragon  on  his  paffage  to 
"  his  den,  who  was  of  fo  malevolent  a  tern- 
"  per,  that  he  never  failed,  on  his  arrival  there, 
*'  to  inflict  fome  peculiar  calamity  on  marr- 
"  kind."  In  about  five  minutes  after  the 
earth  was  violently  agitated,  the  waves  of  the 
lake  tumbled  about  in  a  ftrange  manner,  feem- 
ing  to  emit  flaihes  of  fire,  all  the  while  attend 
ed  with  moft  tremendous  roarings,  intermixed 
with  loud  noifes,  not  unlike  the  explofion  of 
heavy  cannon.  Soon  as  the  Indians  perceived 
it  was  an  earthquake,  they  cried  out,  "  Now 
"  he  comes  home!"  and  cafting  themfelves 
in  their  former  pofture,  filled  the  air  with  dif- 
mal  howlings.  This  was  a  terrible  fcene  to 
MARIA,  who  had  never  been  witnefs  to  fo 
dreadful  a  convulfion  of  Nature  before ;  (he 
flarted  up  and  fled  from  her  favage  companions 
towards  an  eminence  at  fome  diftance,  where, 
dropping  on  her  knees,  fhe  emphatically  im 
plored  the  protection  of  Heaven:  however, 
fhe  was  followed  by  an  Indian  and  HENRY; 
the  latter,  highly  affe&ed  with  her  diftrefTes, 
taking  hold  of  her  trembling  hand,  "  But  why, 
"  my  lifter!"  faid  he,  "  have  you  fled  from 

«  us? 


5$  THE   HISTORY  OF 

"  us?  is  the  gloom  of  a  foreft  more  cheering 
"  than  the  fympathiiing  looks  of  a  friend?" 
**  No,  my  brother  !"  replied  MARIA  ;  "  but 
"  the  thought  was  fuggefled  to  me,  that  the 
*'  fupreme    God    perhaps   was  preparing    to 
"  avenge  himfelf  of  thefe  murderers  by  fome 
11  awful  and  uncommon  judgment,  and  I  fled 
"  from  them  as  LOT  did  from  Sodom,  left  I 
"  might  be  involved  in  the  punimment  of  their 
"  guilt."    They  converted  in  Engliih,  which 
difpleafmg  the  Indian,  he  ordered  them  to  re 
turn  to  the  wigwam,  threatening  to  bind  MA 
RIA  fail  if  flie  offered  to  elope  again.     The 
fhock  being  over,  filence  again  fprcad  through 
the  realms  of  darknefs,    when  a  high  wind 
arofe  from  the  north  and  chilled  our  half-naked 
travellers  with  exceffive  cold.     The  favages 
(whofe  callous  fkins  were  proof  againft  the  in 
clement  weather)   not  caring  to  continue  their 
fires,  left  they  ihould  be  difcovered  and  fur- 
prifed  by  fome  Engliih  party,  they  paffed  here 
a  very  uncomfortable  night ;  but  the  wind  fub- 
fiding,  and  the  iky  growing  clear,  the  fun  rofe. 
peculiarly  warm  and  pleafant,  dreaming  ten 
thoufand  rays  of  gold  acrofs  the  lake.    MARIA 
had  fcarcely  performed  her  oraifons,  when  the 

favages,. 


MARIA.  KITTLE.  59 

favages,  forming  a  circle  round  her  and  HENRY, 
began  to  dance  in  a  moft  extravagant  manner, 
and  with  antic  gefhires  that  at  another  time 
would  have  afforded  mirth  to  our  travellers. 
Having  continued  their  exercife  fome  time, 
they  incontinently  drew  out  boxes  of  paint, 
ami  began  to  ornament  their  captives  with  a 
variety  of  colours;  one  having  croffed  their 
faces  with  a  flroke  of  vermilion,  another  would 
interfect  it  with  a  line  of  black,  and  fo  on  until 
the  \vhole  company  had  given  a  fpecimen  of 
their  {kill  or  fancy. 

Soon  after  two  canoes  arrived,  in  which 
they  paffed  over  the  lake,  which  was  uncom 
monly  ferene  and  pleafant.  They  proceeded 
not  far  on  their  way  before  they  were  obliged 
to  halt  for  two  days,  on  account  of  MARIA'S 
inability  to  travel,  her  feet  being  greatly  fwoln 
and  lacerated  by  the  flinty  path.  At  length, 
by  eafy  ftages,  they  came  in  view  of  an  Indian 
fettlement,  when  MARIA'S  long  unbent  fea 
tures  relaxed  into  a  half  fmile,  and  turning  to 
HENRY,  "  Here,  my  brother!"  faid  (he,  "  I 
* <  ihall  find  fome  of  my  own  fex,  to  whom  fim~ 
**  pie  Nature,  no  doubt,  has  taught  humanity  ; 
<;  this  is  the  firft  precept  ihe  inculcates  in  the 

"  female 


60  THE  HISTORY  OF 

«'  female  mind,  and  this  they  generally  retain 
«'  <h rough  life,  in  fpite  of  every  evil  propen- 
*'  4ity."  As  flue  uttered  this  elogium  in  favour 
of  the  fair,  the  tawny  villagers,  perceiving 
their  approach,  ruihed  promifcuoufly  from 
their  huts  with  an  execrable  din,  and  fell  upon 
the  weary  captives  with  clubs  and  a  fliower 
of  (tones,  accompanying  their  ftrokes  with 
the  moft  virulent  language  ;  among  the  reft  an 
old  deformed  fquaw,  with  the  rage  of  a  Tifl- 
phone,  flew  to  MARIA,  aiming  a  pine-knot 
at  her  head,  and  would  certainly  have  given 
the  wretched  mourner  her  quietus  had  flie  not 
b&en  oppofed  by  the  favage  that  guarded  Mrs. 
KITTLE  :  he  at  firfl  mildly  expostulated  with 
his  paffionate  countrywoman  ;  but  finding  the 
old  hag  frantic, -and  infatiable  of  blood,  he 
twifted  the  pine-knot  from  her  hand  and 
whirled  it  away  to  fome  diftance,  then  feizing 
her  arm  roughly  and  tripping  up  her  heels, 
he  laid  her  proilrate,  leaving  her  to  howl  and 
yell  at  leifure,  which  fhe  performed  without  a 
prompter.— MARIA  was  all  in  a  tremor,  and 
haflily  followed  her  deliverer,  not  caring  to 
rifk  another  encounter  with  the  exafperated 
virago.  By  this  time  the  rage  and  tunuilt  of 

the 


MARIA  KITTLE.  6.1 

the  favages  fubfiding,  the  new-comers  were 
admitted  into  a  large  wigwam,  in  the  center 
of  which  blazed  a  fire.  After  they  were  feated, 
feveral  young  Indians  entered  with  bafkets  of 
green  maize  in  the  ear,  which,  having  roafted 
before  the  fire,  they  diftributed  among  the 
company. 

Mrs.  KITTLE  and  her  brother  complaining 
of  the  bruifes  they  met  with  at  their  recaption, 
an  old  Indian  feemed  to  attend  with  great  con 
cern  ;  then  leaving  the  place,  in  a  little  time 
returned  with  a  bundle  of  aromatic  herbs  under 
his  arm,  the  juice  of  which  he  exprefled  by 
rubbing  them  between  two  ftones  with  flat 
furfaces ;  this  he  gave  them  to  drink,  applying 
the  leaves  externally.  They  inftantly  found 
relief  from  the  medical  quality  of  this  extraor 
dinary  plant,  and  compofing  themfelves  to 
fleep,  expected  a  good  night's  repofe  ;  but  they 
were  miftaken,  for  their  entertainers  growing 
intoxicated  with  fpirituous  liquors,  which  ope 
rating  differently,  it  produced  a  moft  compli 
cated  noife  of  yelling,  talking,  finging,  and 
-quarrelling :  this  was  a  charm  more  powerful 
than  the  wand  of  Hermes  to  drive  away  fleep : 
but  grown  familiar  with  forrow  and  difap- 
pointment,  MARIA  regarded  this  as  a  trifle, 
G  and 


62  THE  HISTORY   OF 

and  when  HENRY  expreffed  his  concern  for 
her,  fmiling,  flie  replied,  "  We  muft  arm  our- 
"  felves  with  patience,  my  brother!  we  can 
"  combat  with  fate  in  no  other  manner." 

It  were  endlefs  to  recapitulate  minutely 
every  diftrefs  that  attended  the  prifoners  in 
their  tedious  journey  ;  let  it  fuffice,  that  hav 
ing  paffed  through  uncommon  mifery,  and  im 
minent  danger,  they  arrived  at  Montreal. — 
Here  the  favages  were  joined  by  feveral  fcalp- 
ing  parties  of  their  tribe,  and  having  previously 
frefh  painted  themfelves,  appeared  in  hideous 
pomp,  and  performed  a  kind  of  triumphal  en 
try.  The  throng  of  people  that  came  out  to 
meet  them,  threw  MARIA  in  the  moft  painful 
fenfations  of  embarraflment ;  but  as  the  cla 
mours  and  infults  of  the  populace  increafed,  a 
freezing  torpor  fucceeded,  and  bedewed  her 
limbs  with  a  cold  fweat— fhange  chimeras 
danced  before  her  fight— the  actings  of  her 
foul  were  fufpended — flie  feemed  to  move  me 
chanically,  nor  recollected  herfelf  till  me 
found  £he  was  feated  in  the  Governor's  hall, 
furrounded  by  an  impertinent,  inquifitive  cir 
cle  of  people,  who  were  inquiring  into  the 
caufe  of  her  diforder,  without  attempting  any 
thing  towards  her  relief,  Difcovering  her 

iituation,- 


MARIA  KITTLE.  63 

fituation,  me  blufhingly  withdrew  to  a  dark 
corner  from  the  public  gaze,  and  could  not 
help  fighing  toherfelf,  "  Alas  !  but  a  very  few 
**  days  ago  I  was  hailed  as  the  happieft  of  wo- 
$<  men — my  fond  hufband  anticipated  all  my 
"  defires — my  children  fmiled  round  me  with 
"  filial  delight — my  very  fervants  paid  me  the 
"  homage  due  to  an  angel — O  my  God !  what 
"  a  fudden,  what  a  deplorable  tranfition !  I 
••  am  fallen  below  contempt!"  As  (he  thus 
moralized  on  her  fituation,  an  Englifh  woman 
(whom  humanity  more  than  curiofity  had 
drawn  to  the  place)  approached  MARIA,  and 
obferving  her  tears  and  deep  dejection,  took 
hold  of  her  hand,  and  endeavoured  to  fmile  ; 
but  the  foft  impulfes  of  nature  were  too  ftrong 
for  the  efforts  of  diffimulation— her  features 
inftantly  faddened  again,  and  fhe  burfl  into 
tears,  exclaiming,  (with  a  hefitating  voice,) 
"  Poor,  forlorn  creature  !  where  are  thy 
**  friends  !  perhaps  the  dying  moments  of  thy 
*'  fond  parent,  or  hufband,  have  been  cruelly 
*'  embittered  with  the  fight  of  thy  captivity ! 
*'  perhaps  now  thy  helplefs  orphan  is  mourn- 
"  ing  for  the  breaft  which  gave  him  nourilh- 
*'  ment !  or  thy  plaintive  little  ones  are  won"- 
G  2  "  dering 


04  THE  HISTORY    OF 

"  dering  at  the  long  abfence  of  their  miferable 
"mother!" — «Oh!  no  more !  no  more!'1 
interrupted  MARIA  j  4<  your  pity  is  feverer 

"  than   favage    cruelty 1   could   ftand   the 

"  mock  of  fortune  with  fome  degree  of  firm- 
**  nefs,  but  your  foft  fympathy  opens  afrefh 
**  the  wounds  of  my  foul !  my  lofles  are  be- 
"  yond  your  conjecture— I  have  no  parent, 
"  no  fportive  children,  and,  I  believe,  no 
"  hufband,  to  mourn  and  \vifh  for  me!'* 
Thefe  words  were  fucceeded  by  an  affect  ing 
file  nee  on  both  fides:  meanwhile  the  Indians 
testified  their  impatience  to  be  admitted  to  the 
Governor  by  frequent  fhouts ;  at  length  his 
Excellency  appeared,  and  having  held  a  long 
conference  with  the  favages,  they  retired  with 
his  Secretary,  and  our  prifoners  faw  them  no 
more. 

After  their  exit  the  Governor  turning  round 
to  MARIA  and  HENRY,  demanded  who  they 
were?  Mrs.  KITTLE'S  perplexity  prevented 
her  reply;  but  HENRY,  in  a  moil  refpeclful 
manner,  gave  him  a  fuccincl:  account  of  their 
misfortunes.  The  Governor  perceiving  him 
fenfible  and  communicative,  interrogated  him 
farther,  but  he  modeilly  declined  giving  any 

political 


MARIA  KITTLE.  ^ 

political  intelligence.  Obferving  that  MARIA 
differed  greatly  in  this  interview,  he  foon  con 
cluded  it,  after  having  prefented  feveral  pieces 
of  calicoes  and  fluffs  to  them,  defiring  they 
would  accept  what  they  had  occafion  for. 
Mrs.  KITTLE  immediately  iingled  out  a  piece 
of  black  calimanco  with  tears  of  gratitude  to 
her  benefaftor;  who,  fmiling,  obferved  fhe 
might  chufe  a  gayer  colour,  as  he  hoped  her 
diftreffes  were  now  over.  MARIA  (hook  her 
head  in  token  of  diflent,  but  could  make  no 
reply.  He  then  difmifled  them,  with  a  fin  all 
guard,  who  was  directed  to  provide  them  with', 
decent  lodgings* 

HENRY  was  accommodated  at  a  baker's, 
while  his  fifter,  to  her  no  fmall  fatisfa&ion, 
found  herfclf.  placed  at  the  Englim  woman's 
who,  on  her  arrival,  had  exprefled  fo  much 
good  nature,  She  had'  fcarcdy  entered*  when 

Mrs,  D ,  prefenting  her  with  a  cordial, 

led  her  to  a  couch,  innfting  on  her  repofmg 
there  a  little,  "  for,"  fays  me,  "  your  wafte 
**  of  fpirits  requires  it." 

This  tendernefs,  which  MARIA  had  long 

beea  a  flranger  to,  relaxed  every  fibre  of  her 

heart ;  ihe  again  melted  into  tears ;  but  it  was  a 

G  %  gufb 


66  THE  HISTORY  OF 

gufh  of  grateful  acknowledgment,  that  culled 
a  modeft  blufh  of  pleafure  and  perplexity  on 

Mrs.  D 's  cheek.     Being  left  alone,  fhe 

foon  fell  in  a  profound  fleep ;  and  her  friend 
having  prepared  a  comfortable  repafl,  in  lets 
than  an  hour  awaked  her,  with  an  invitation 
to  dinner — "  And  how  do  you  find  yourfelf, 
*'  my  fifter?"  faid  ihe  inftin&ively,  feizing 
MARIA'S  hand  and  comprefling  it  between 
her's;  '*  may  we  hope  that  you  will  affift  us 
"  in  conquering  your  dejection?' '—MARIA 
fmiled  benignly  through  a  cryftal  atmofphere 
of  tears,  and  kitting  the  hand  of  her  friend, 
arofe.  Having  dined,  and  being  now  equip* 
ped  in  decent  apparel,  MARIA  became  the  ad 
miration  and  efteem  of  the  whole  family.  The 
tempeft  of  her  foul  fubfided  in  a  folemn  calm  ; 
and  though  fhe  did  not  regain  her  vivacity,,  fhe 
became  agreeably  converfable. 

In  a  few  days,  however,  fhe  felt  the  fymp- 
toms  of  an  approaching  fever.   She  was  alarmed 

at  this,  and  intimating  to  Mrs.  D her  fears 

of  becoming  tronblefome,  "  Do  not  be  con- 
"  cerned,"  returned  that  kind  creature;  "  my 
"  Gctl  did  not  plant  humanity  in  my  breaft  to 
««  remain  there  an  ina&ive  principle."  MA 
RIA 


MARIA  KITTLE.  67 

RIA  felt  her  oppreffion  relieved  by  this  gene 
rous  fentiment ;  and  indeed  found  her  friend- 
fhip  did  not  confift  in  profeffion,  as  me  incef- 
.fantly  tended  her  during  her  illnefs  with  in- 
expreffible  delicacy  and  folicitude.  When  me 

was  again  on  the  recovery,  Mrs.  D one 

day  ordered  a  fmall  trunk  covered  with  Mo 
rocco  leather  to  be  brought  before  her,  and 
opening  it,  produced  feveral  fets  of  fine  linen, 
with  foine  elegant  fluffs  and  other  necefTaries. 
— "  See,"  faid  me,  "  what  the  benevolence 
"  of  Montreal  has  done  for  you.  The  ladies 
"  that  beg  your  acceptance  of  thefe  things, 
"  intend  j/ikewife  to  enhance  the  favour,  by 
"  waiting  on  you  this  afternoon."— "  Ah!'5 
interrupted  MARIA,  ".I- want  them  not;  this 
"  one  plain  habit  is  enough  to  anfwer  the  pur- 
41  pofe  of  drefs  for  me.  Shut  the  cheft,  my 

*'  dear  Mrs.  D ,  and  keep  them  as  a  fmall 

"  compenfation  for  the  immenfe  trouble  I  have 
"  been  to  you." — "  If  this  is  your  real  fen- 
"  timent,"  replied  her  friend,  (ihutting  the 
cheft,  and  preferring  her  the  key,)  "  return 
«.«  your  gifts  to  the  donors  ;  and  firice  you  will 
"  reward  me  for  my  little  offices  of  friendmip, 
**  only  love  me,  and  believe  me  difmtereffced, 

«  and 


68  THE   HISTORY   OF 

"  and  I  (hall  be  overpaid." — "  I  fee  I  have 
*'•  wronged  your  gen.eroiity,"  anfwered  MA 
RIA.  "  Pardon  me,  my  fitter,  I  will  offend 
"  no  more.  I  did  not  think  you  mercenary— 
*'  but — but — I  meant  only  to  dHengage  my 
*<  heart  of  a  little  of  its  burden."— As  this 
tender  eonteft  was  painful  to  both  parties,  Mrs. 

D rifing  abruptly,  pretended:  forhe  bu£- 

nefs,  proraifing  to  return  again  dire6lly»- 

In  the  afternoon  MARIA  received  her  viii- 
tants  in  a  neat  little  parlour.  She  was  drefled 
in  a  plain  fuit  of  mourning,  and  wore  a  fmall 
muflin  cap,  from  which  her  hair  fell  in  artlefs 
curls  on  her  fine  neck :  her  face  was  pale,  though 
not  emaciated,  and  her  eyes  dreamed  a  foft 
languor  over  her  countenance,,  more  bewitch 
ing  than  the  fpr,ightlieft  glances  of  vivacity.. 
As  they  entered  me  arofe,  and  advancing, 
modeftly  received  their  civilities,  while-Mrs. 

D handed  them  to  chairs :  but  hearing  a; 

well-known  voice,  fhe  haftily  lifted,  up  her 
eyes,  and  fcr earned  out  in  an  accent  of  fu*r- 
prife,  "  Good  Heaven  !  may  I  credit  my  fen- 
*«  fes  ?  My  dear  Mrs  BRATT,  my  kind  oeigh- 
'«  bour,  is  it  really  you  diat  I  fee?'*  Here 
Hie  found  herfelf  clafped  in  her  friend's  arms, 

who, 


MARIA  KITTLE.  69 

who,  after  a  long  fubfiding  figh,  broke  into 
tears.  The  tumult  of  paflion  at  length  abating 
— "  Could  I  have  guefled,  my  MARIA,"  faid 
fhe,  "  that  you  was  here,  my  viflt  fhould  not 
' '  have  been  deferred  a  moment  after  your  arri- 
*'  val :  but  I  have  mourned  with  a  fitter  in 
"  affliction,  (permit  me  to  prefent  her  to  you,) 
*'  and  while  our  hearts  were  wrung  with  each 
"  other's  diftrefs,  alas  !  we  inquired  after  no- 
"  foreign  calamity."  Being  all  feated,  "  I 
"  dare  not,"  refumed  MARIA,  "  aik  after 
"  your  family;  I  am  afraid  you  only  have 
*'  efcaped  to  tell  me  of  them." — "  Not  fo,  my 
"  lifter,"  cried  Mrs.  BRATT  ;  "  but  if  you 
"  can  bear  the  recollection  of  your  misfor- 
"  tunes,  do  oblige  me  with  the  recital."  The 
ladies  joined  their  intreaty,  and  Mrs.  KITTLE 
complied  in  a  graceful  manner. 

After  fome  time  fpent  in  tears,  and  pleaf- 
ing  melancholy,  tea  was  brought  in ;  and  to 
wards  fun-fet  Mrs.  D invited  the  com 
pany  to  walk  in  the  garden,  which  being  very 
{mall,  confifled  only  of  a  parterre,  at  the  far 
ther  end  of  which  ftoad  an  arbour  covered 
with  a  grape-vine.  Here  being  feated,  after 
fome  chat  on  indifferent  fubje6ts,  MARIA  de- 

iired 


^O  THE  HISTORY^OF 

fired  Mrs.  BRATT,  (if  agreeable  to  the  com 
pany)  to  acquaint  her  with  the  circumflances 
of  her  capture.  They  all  bowed  approbation ; 
and  after  fome  hefitation  Mrs.  BRATT  be 
gan: — 

44  My  heart,  ladies,  fhall  ever  retain  a  fenfe 
44  of  the  happinefs  I  enjoyed  in  the  focietjr 
44  of  Mrs.  KITTLE  and  feveral  other  amia- 
"  ble  perfons  in  the  vicinage  of  Schochticook, 
44  where  I  refided.  She  in  particular  cheered 
"  my  lonely  hours  of  widowhood,  and  omit- 
44  ted  nothing  that  me  thought  might  conduce 
44  to  my  ferenity.  I  had  two  fons ;  fhe  recom- 
44  mended  the  education  of  them  to  my  leifure 
44  hours.  I  accepted  of  her  advice,  and  found 
44  a  fufpenfion  of  my  forrows  in  the  execution 
44  of  my  duty.  They  foon  improved  beyond 
"  my  capacity  of  teaching.  RICHARD,  my 
44  eldeft,  was  paffionately  fond  of  books,  which 
44  he  ftudied  with  intenfe  application.  This 
44  naturally  attached  him  to  a  fedentary  life, 
44  and  he  became  the  conftant  inftrudUve  com- 
44  panion  of  my  evening  hours.  My  youngeft 
"  fon,  CHARLES,  was  more  volatile,  yet  not 
44  lefs  agreeable ;  his  perfon  was  charming, 
*4  his  wit  fprightly,  and  his  addrefs  elegant. 

"  They 


MARIA  KITTLE.  yj 

**  They  often  importuned  me,  at  the  com- 
"  mencement  of  this  war,  to  withdraw  to 
"  Albany  \  but,  as  I  apprehended  nbiitlangcr, 
"  (the  Britifh  troops  being  ftationed  aboVe'us, 
*'  quite  from  Saratoga  to  the  Lake)  I  ridicul- 
"  ed  their  fears. 

"  One  evening  as  my  fons  were  come  in 
«'  from  reaping,  and  I  was  bufied  in  preparing 
'*  them  a  difh  of  tea,  we  were  furprifed  by  a 
*'  difcharge  of  mulketry  near  us  We  all 
**  three  ran  to  the  door,  and  beheld  a  party  of 
*'  Indians  not  twenty  paces  from  us.  Struck 
**  with  afloniihment,  we  had  no  power  to 
"  move  ;  and  the  favages  again  firing  that  in- 
4<  ftant,  my  CHARLES  dropped  down  dead 
¥<  befide  me.  Good  God  !  what  were  my 
"  emotions  !  But  language  would  fail,  fhould 
**  I  attempt  to  defcribe  them.  My  furviving 
"  fon  then  turning  to  me,  with  a  countenance 
1 «  expreflive  of  the  deepeft  horror,  urged  me 
"  to  fly.  "  Let  us  be  gone  this  inflant,"  faid 
11  he;  "  a  moment  determines  our  fate.  O 
14  my  mother!  you  are  already  loft."  But 
"  defpair  had  fwallowed  up  my  fears;  I  fell 
"  flirieking  on  the  body  of  my  child,  and 
**  rending  away  my  hair,  endeavoured  to  re- 

"  call 


*?2  THE  HISTORY   OF 

s<  call  him  to  life  with  unavailing  laments. 
li  RICHARD,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  quitted 
*'T4ner^nd  the  moment  after  I  beheld  him 
"  mounted  on  horfehack,  and  ftretching  away 
"  to  the  city.  The  Indians  fired  a  volley  at 
"  him,  but  miffed,  and,  I  natter  myfclf  that 
*{  he  arrived  fafe.  And  now,  not  all  my 
6i  prayers  and  tears  could  prevent  the  wretches 
6i  from  fcalping  my  precious  child.  But  when 
"they  rent  me  away  from  him,  and  dragged 
"  me  from  the  houfe,  my  grief  and  rage 
*f  burft  forth  like  a  hurricane.  I  execrated 
"  their  whole  race,  and  called  for  eternal  ven- 
"  geance  to  cruih  them  to  atoms.  After  a 
'"  while  I  grew  afhamed  of  my  impetuofity: 
*'  the  tears  began  again  to  flow  filently  on  my 
"  cheek ;  and,  as  I  walked  through  the  foreft 
te  between  two  Indians,  my  foul  grew  fudden- 
"  ly  fick  and  groaned  in  me  ;  a  darknefs,  more 
"  fubftantial  than  Egyptian  night,  fell  upon 
"  it,  and  my  exiftence  became  an  infupport- 
«<  able  burthen  to  me.  I  looked  up  to  Hea- 
<;  ven  with  a  hopelefs  kind  of  awe,  but  I 
"  murmured  no  more  at  the  difpenfations  of 
"  my  God  ;  and  in  this  frame  of  fallen  refigna- 
<(  tion  I  pafied  the  reft  of  my  journey,  which 

*'  being 


MARIA  KITTLE.  73 

'"•being  nearly  fimilar  to  Mrs.  KITTLE'S,  I 
*'  mall  avoid  the  repetition  of.  And  now  per- 
"  mit  me  (laid  fhe,  turning  to  the  French  la- 
"  dies)  to  acknowledge  your  extreme  goodnefs 
"  to  me.  I  was  a  ftranger,  fick  and  naked,  and 
*'  you  took  me  in.  You  indeed  have  proved 
*'  the  good  Samaritan  to  me,  pouring  oil  and 
^*  wine  in  my  wounds." — "  Hufh,hum  !  (cri- 
•*'  edr  Madame  DE  ROCHE,)  you  eftimate  our 
"  fervices  at  too  high  a  rate.  I.  fee  yon  are  no 
"  connoirTeur  in  minds;  there  is  a  great  deal 
*'  of  hone  ft  Jiofpi  tali  ty  in  the  world.,  though 
"  you  have  met  wTith  fo  little.'* 

"  I  now  rejecl:,  (interrupted  Mrs.  BRATT,) 
<{  all  prejudices  of  education.  From  my  in- 
'*  fancy  have  I  be^n  taught  that  the  French 
*«  were  a  cruel  perfidious  enemy,  but  I  have 
"  found  them  quite  the  reverfe." 

Madame  DE  R.  willing  to  change  the  fubject, 
accofted  the  other  ftranger,—"  Dear  Mrs. 
"  WILLIS,  fhall  we  not  be  interefled  likewife 
**  in  your  misfortunes?"— "  Ah!  do,  (added 
Mademoifelle  V.)  "  my  heart  is  now  fvveetly 
"  tuned  to  melancholy.  I  love  to  indulge  thefe 
"  divine  fenfibilities,  which  your  afFecl ing  hif- 
**  tories  are  fo  capable  of  infpiring." — 
H 


74  THE  HISTORY  OF 

RiA  then  took  hold  of  Mrs.  WILLIS'S  hatvl, 
and  prefTed  her  to  oblige  them. — Mrs.  WIL 
LIS  bowed.  She  dropt  a  few  tears;  but  af- 
fuming  a  compofed  look,  fhe  began: — 

44  I  am  the  ^daughter  of  a  poor  clergyman, 
"  who  being  confined  to  his  chamber  by  fick- 
"  nefs,  for  feveral  years,  amufed  himfelf  by 
"  educating  me.  At  his  death,  finding  my- 
"  felf  friendlefs,  and  without  money,  I  ac- 
"  cepted  the  hand  of  a  young  man  who  had 
"  taken  a  leafed  farm  in  Pennfyivania.  He 
"  was  very  agreeable,  and  extravagantly  fond 
"  of  me.  We  lived  happily  for  many  years 
"  in  a  kind  of  frugal  affluence.  When  the 
*'  favages  began  to  commit  outrages  on  the 
*'  frontier  fettlements,  our  neighbours,  intimi- 
"  dated  at  their  rapid  approaches,  erected  a 
"  fmall  fort,  furrounded  by  a  high  palifade. 
"  Into  this  the  more  timorous  drove  their  cat- 
*'  tie  at  night;  and  one  evening,  as  we  were 
"  at  fupper,  my  hufband  (being  ordered  on 
tl  guard)  infifted  that  I  fhould  accompany  him 
6f  with  the  children  (for  I  had  two  lovely 
(i  girls,  one  turned  of  thirteen  years,  andan- 
<£  other  of  fix  months.)  My  SOPHIA  afiented 
*'  to  the  propofal  with  joy.  **  Mamma, 

(laid 


MARIA  KITTLE,  75 

"  (faid  flie,)  what  a  merry  woman  the  Cap- 
"  tain's  wife  is;  fhe  will  divert  us  the  whole 
"  evening,  and  fhe  is  very  fond  of  your  com- 
"  pany:  come,  I  will  take  our  little  CHAR- 
"  LOTTE  on  my  arm,-  and  papa  will  carry  the 
"  lantern."  I  acceded  with  a  nod;  and  al- 
"  ready  the  dear  charmer  had  handed  me  my 
"  hat  and  gloves,  when  fomebody  thundered 
«'  at  the  door.  We  were  filent  as  death,  and 
"  inftantly  after  plainly  could  diftinguim.  the 
"  voices  of  favages  conferring  together.  Chil- 
"  led  as  I  was  with  fear,  I  flew  to  the  cradle, 
"  and  catching  my  infant,  ran  up  into  a  loft. 
"  SOPHIA  followed  me  all  trembling,  and 
"  panting  for  breath  caft  herfelf  in  my  bofom. 
*'  Hearing  the  Indians  enter,  I  looked  through 
"  a  crevice  in  the  floor,  and  few  .them,  with 
44  menacing  looks,  feat  themfelves  round  the 
"  table,  and  now  and  then  addrefs  them- 
"  f elves  to  Mr.  WILLIS,  who,  all  pale  and 
«'  aftoniihed,  neither  underftood  nor  had 
"  power  to  anfwer  them.  I  obferved  they 
"  took  a  great  pleafure  in  terrifying  him,  by 
*l  flouriihing  their  knives,  and  gaining  the 
"  table  with  their  hatchets.  Alas !  this  fight 
"  {hot  icicles  to  my  foul;  and,  to  increafemy 
H  2  "  diilrefs, 


^ 6  THE    HISTORY   OF 

"  diflrefs,  my  SOPHIA'S  little  heart  beafc 
"  againft  my  breaft,  with  redoubled  ftrokes, 
"  at  every  word  they  uttered. 

"  Having  fhrifhed  their  repaft  in  a  giutti- 
*'  nous  manner,  they  laid  a  fire-brand  in  each 
"  corner  of  the  chamber,  and  then  departed, 
"  -driving  poor  Mr.  WILLIS  before  them. 
"  The  jfmoke  ioon  incommoded  us;  but  we 
"  dreaded  out  barbarous  enemy  more  than  the 
"  fire.  At  length,  however,  the  flames  be- 
"  ginning  to  invade~our  retreat,  trembling  and 
16  apprehend  ve,  we  ventured  down  flairs ;  the 
**  whole  houfe  new  glowed  like  a  furnace; 
**  the  flames  rolled  towards  the  flairs,  which 
"  we  haflily  defcended;  but  juft  as  I  fat  my 
"  foot  on  the  threfhold  of  the  door,  a  piece  of 
"  timber,  nearly  confumed  through,  gave  way, 
"  and  fell  on  my  left  arm,  which  fnpported  my 
"  infant,  miferably  fracturing  the  bone.  I  in- 
"  ftantly  caught  up  my  fallen  lamb,  and  haf- 
"  tened  to  overtake  my  SOPHIA.  There  was  a 
"  large  hollow  tree  contiguous  to  our  houfe> 
"  with  an  aperture  juft  large  enough  to  admit 
4<  fo  fmall  a  woman  as  I  am.  Here  we  had 
*'  often  laughingly  propofed  to  hide  our  chil- 
*«  dren,  in  cafe  of  a  viiit  from  the  olive  colour- 

4<  ed 


MARIA  KITTLE.  77 

"  ed  natives.  In  this  we  now  took  flicker; 
"  and  being  feated  Come  time,  my  foul  leemed 
"  to  awake  as  it  were  from  a  vifion  of  horror : 
"  I  lifted  up  my  eyes,  and  beheld  the  cottage 
"  that  lately  circumicribed  all  my  worldly 
"  wealth  and  delight,  melting  away  before  the 
"  devouring  fire.  I  dropt  a  tear  as  our  apoftate 
"  nrft  parents  did  when  thruft  out  from  Eden. 
"  The  world  lay  all  before  them,  where  to 
"  chufe  their  place  of  reft,  and  Providence 
"  their  guide.  Ah,  E^E,!  thought  I,  hadft 
"  thou  been  like  me,  folitary,  maimed,  and 
*'  unprotected,  thy  fituation  had  been  deplo- 
"  rable  indeed.  Then  prefling  my  babe  to  my 
"  heart,  ll  How  quiet  art  thou,  my  angel,  (faid 
"  I  ;)  fare— -Cure,  Heaven  has  ftilled  thy  lit- 
*'  tie  plaints  in  mercy  to  us." — "  Ah  !  (fobbed 
*«  SOPHIA,)  now  I  am  comforted  again  that 
"  I  hear  my  dear  mamma's  voice.  .  I  was 
"  afraid  grief  would  have  forever  deprived  me 
"  of  that  happinefs."  And  here  me  kifTed 
"  my  babe  and  me  with  vehemence.  When 
**  .,.-r  tranfports  were  moderated,  '*  How  cold 
"  my  lifter  is,  (faid  fhe,)  do  wrap  her  up 
"  warmer,  mamma;  poor  thing,  ihe  is  not 
**  ufed  to  fach  uncomfortable  lodging." 

H  3  "  The 


)8  THE  HISTORY    OF 

"  The  pain  of  my  arm  now  called  for  all 
"  my  fortitude  and  attention  ;  but  I  forbore  to 
"  mention  this  afflicting  circumliance  to  my 
"  daughter. 

"  The  cheerful  fwallow  now  began  to  ufber 
'*  in  the  dawn  with  melody;  we  timidly  pre- 
"  pared  to  quit  our  hiding  place;  and  turning 
"  round  to  the  light,  I  caft  an  anxious  eye  cf 
"  love  on  my  innocent,  wondering  that  ihe 
**  flept  fo  long.  But  oh  !  horror  anchnifery  I 
*«  I  beheld  her  a  pale,  ftiff  corpfe  in  my  arms ; 
"  (fuffer  me  to  weep,  ladies,  at  the  cruel  te- 
"  collection.)  It  feems  the  piece  of  wood  that 
*<  difabled  me,  had  alfo  crufhed  my  CHAR- 
*«  LOTTED  tender  ikull,  and  no  wonder  my 
44  haplefs  habe  was  quiet.  I  could  no  longer 
**  fuflain  rny  forrowful  burden,  but  falling 
*<  proftrate,  almoft  infenfible  at  the  dreadful 
><  difcovery,  uttered  nothing  but  groans.  So- 
"  J>HIA'S  little  heart  was  too  fufceptible  for 
*f  fo  moving  a  fcene.  Diftracled  between  her 
'«  concern  for  me,  and  her  grief  for  the  lofs 
«  of  her  dear  fitter,  fhe  caft  herfelf  befide  me, 
'*  and  with  the  fofteft  voice  of  forrow,  bewail- 
<«  ed  the  fate  of  her  beloved  CHARLOTTE— - 
««  her  fw  cet .companion-— her  innocent,  laugh- 

"  lag 


MARIA  KITTL-E,  73- 

"  ing  play-fellow.     At  length  we  rofe,  and 

"  SOPHIA,  clafping  all  that  remained  of  my 

"  cherub  in  her  arms,  "  Ah!    (faid  {he,)  I  dick 

"  engage  to  carry  you,    my  fitter,  but  little 

"  did  I  expect  in  this  diilrefling  manner,"' 

*'  When  we  came  in  fight  of  the  fort,  though 

11  I  endeavoured  to  fpirit  up  my  grieved  child, 

44  yet  I  found  my  fprings  of  a&ion  begin  to 

"  move  heavily,   my  heart  fluttered,    and  J 

"  fuddenly  fainted  away.     SOPHIA,  conclud- 

"  ing  I  was  dead,  uttered  fo  piercing  a  cry, 

«'  that  the  centinel  looking  up,  immediately 

*«  called  to  thofe  in  the  fort  to  afiift  us.    When 

"  I  recovered,  I  found  myfelf  in  abed  encir- 

"  cled  by  my  kind  neighbours,  who  divided 

"  their  expreffions  of  love  and  condolement 

*'  between  me  and  my  child.     I  remained  in 

*  *  the  fort  after  this  ;  but,  ladies,  you  may  think, 

"  that  bereft  as  I  was  of  fo  kind  a  hufband  and 

"  endearing  child,   I  foon  found  myfelf  foli- 

'"  tary  and  deftitute.     I  wept  inceffaritly ;  and 

4<  hearing  nothing  from  my  dear  WILLIS,  I 

"  at  length  relblved  to  traverfe  the  wilds  cf 

"  Canada  in  purfuit  of  him.      When  I  com- 

'«  municated  this  to  my  friends,  they  all  ftrong- 

*'  ly  oppofed  it;    but  finding  me  inflexible* 

"  they 


80  THE  HISTORY   OF 

44  they  furnifhed  me  with  fome  money  and  ne- 
'*  cefiaries,  and  obtained  a  permiflion  from 
*4  the  Governor  to  let  me  go  under  protection 
*4  of  a  flag  that  was  on  the  way.  Hearing 
44  like  wife  that  a  cartel  was  drawn  for  an  ex- 
*4  change  of  prifoners,  I  fat  out,  flufhed  with 
"  hope,  and  with  indefatigable  induftry  and 
14  painful  tblicirude,  arrived  at  Montreal,  worn 
*4  toaikeleton  (as  you  fee  ladies)  with  fatigue. 
44  I  omitted  not  to  inquire  of  every  officer, 
<4  the  names  of  prifoners  who  had  been  brought 
"  in.  At  length  I  underftocd  that  Mr.  WIL- 
<4  LIS  had  perifhed  in  jail,  on  his  firft  arrival, 
^  of  a  dyfentery,— Here  my  expectations  ter- 
ik  minated  in  defpair.  I  had  no  money  to  re- 
"  turn  with,  and  indeed  but  for  my  SOPHIA 
44  no  inclination—the  whole  world  feemed 
44  dark  and  cheerlefs  to  me  as  the  fabled  re- 
lt  gion  of  Cimmeria,  and  I  was  nigh  periihing 
64  for  very  want,  when  Mrs.  BRATT,  hearing 
44  of  my  diftrefs,  fought  rny  acquaintance  :  ihe 
44  kindly  participated  my  fortows,  and  too — 
44  too  generoufly  {hared  her  purfe  and  bed  with 
44  me.  This,  ladies,  is  the  ftory  of  a  broken- 
44  hearted  woman  ;^nor  fhould  I  have  intruded 
*4  it  in  any  other  but  the  houfe  of  mourning.'* 

Here 


MARfA  KITTXE.  8s 

Here  fhe  concluded,  while  the  ladies  fe~ 
verally  embracing-  her,  exprefled  their  ac 
knowledgments  for  the  painful  talk  fhe  had 

complied  with  to  oblige  their  curiofity. 

"  Would  to  Heaven!"  laid  Madame  DE  R. 
"  that  the  brutal  nations  were  extinct,  for 
"  never — never  can  the  united  humanity  of 
"  France  and  Britain  compenfate  forthe  horrid 
"  cruelties  of  their  favage  allies/* 

They  were  foon  after  fummoned  to  an  ele 
gant  collation ;  and  having  fpent  befi^part  of 
the  night  together,  the  guefts  retired  to  their 
refpe&ive  homes. 

During  two  years,  in  which  the  French., 
ladies  continued  their  bounty  and  friendship 
to  Mrs.  KITTLE,  fhe  never  could  gain  the 
leaft  intelligence  of  herhufband.  Her  letters, 
after  wandering  through  feveral  provinces, 
would  often  return  to  "her  hands  unopened. 
Defpairing  at  length  of  ever  feeing  him, 

"  Ah  !"•  fhe  would  fay  to  Mrs.  D ,  "  my 

*'  poor  hufband  has  undoubtedly  perifhed,  per- 
4<  haps  in  his  fruitlefs  fearch  after  me,  and  I 
"  am  left  to  be  a  long — long  burden  on  your 
"  goodnefs,  a  very  unprofitable  dependant." 

la 


$2  THE  HISTORY  OF 

In  her  friend's  abfenee  me  would  defcend 
into  the  kitchen,  and  fubmit  to  the  moil  me 
nial  offices  i  nor  could  the  fervants  prevent  her ; 

however,  they  apprifed  Mrs.  D of  it,  who 

feized  an  opportunity  of  detecting  her  at  her 
labour.  Being  baffled  in  her  humble  attempt 
by  the  gentle  reproaches  of  her  indulgent  pa- 
tronefs,  fhe  fat  down  on  the  flep  of  the  door, 
and  began  to  weep.  "  I  believe,  good  Mrs, 

*<  D ,"  faid  ihe,  "  were  you  a  hard  tafk- 

"  matter,  that  exacted  from  thefe  ufelefs  hands 
"  the  moft  ilaviih  bufinefs,  I  could  acquit  my- 
"  felf  with  cheerfulnefs :  my  heart  is  like  ice, 
"  that  brightens  and  grows  firmer  by  tempefls, 
**  but  cannot  ftand  the  warm  rays  of  a  kind 

**  fun."     Mrs.  D was  beginning  to  an- 

fwer,  when  hearing  a  tumult  in  the  ftreet,  they 
both  hafted  to  the  door,  and  MARIA,  calling 
her  eyes  careiefily  over  the  crowd,  in  an  inflant 
recognized  the  features  of  her  long-lamented 
huiband,  who  fprang  towards  her  with  an  un- 
defcribable  and  involuntary  rapture :  but  the 
tide  of  joy  and  furprife  was  too  ftrong  for  the 
delicacy  of  her  frame :  ihe  gave  a  faint  excla 
mation,  and  ilretching  out  her  arms  to  receive 
him,  dropped  fenfelefs  at  his  feet.  The  fuc- 

ceilioa 


MARIA  KITTLE.  -gj 

cefllon  of  his  ideas  was  too  rapid  to  admit 
defcribing.  He  caught  her  up,  and  bearing 
her  in  the  hall,  laid  his  precious  burden  on  a 
fettee,  kneeling  befide  her  in  a  fpeechlefs  a- 
gony  of  delight  and  concern.  Meanwhile  the 
fpectators  found  themfelves  wonderfully  affe  ft- 
ed— -the  tender  contagion  ran  from  bofom  to 
bofom— they  wept  aloud;  and  the  houfe  of 
joy  feemed  to  be  the  houfe  of  lamentation. 
At  length  MARIA  opened  her  eyes  and  burft 
into  a  violent  fit  of  tears— -Mr.  KITTLE,  with 
anfwering  emotions,  filently  accompanying 
her ;  then  clafping  his  arms  endearingly  round 
her,  "  It  is  enough,  my  love,"  faidhe,  "  we 
"  have  had  OUT  night  of  affliction,  and  furely 
*'  this  blefied  meeting  is  a  prefage  of  a  long 
"  day  of  future  happinefs;  let  me  kifs  offthofe 
•*'  tears,  and  {hew  by  your  fmiles  that  I  am 
"  indeed  welcome."  MARIA  then  bending 
fondly  forward  to  his  bofom,  replied,  fighing, 
"  Alas  !  how  can  your  beggared  wife  give  you 
*(  a  proper  reception  ?  fhe  cannot  reftore  your 
<;  prattling  babes  to  your  arms — me  comes  a- 
"  lone!  Alas!  her  prefence  will  only  ferve 
"  to  remind  you  of  the  treafures — the  filial 
"  delights  you  have  loft  !" — "  God  forbid," 

anfwered 


$4  THE  HISTORY    O-F 

anfwered  he,  "  that  I  fhould  repine  at  the  lofs 
"  of  my.'fmaller  comforts,  when  fo  capital  a 
"  blefling  as  rny  beloved  MARIA  is  fo  won- 
c<  derfully  reftored  to  me."  Here  he  was  in 
civility  obliged  to  rife  and  receive  the  compli 
ments  of  Mrs.  BRATT,  Mrs.  WILLIS,  and 
Madame  DE  R — -r,  who,  hearing  of  his  ar 
rival,  entered  juft  then,  half  breathlefs  with 
impatience  and  joy.  The  company  increaf- 
ed ;  an  elegant  dinner  was  prepared :  in  ihort, 
the  day  was  devoted  to  pleafure ;  and  never 
was  fatisfa6tion  more  general — feftivity  glow 
ed  on  every  face,  and  complacency  dimpled 
.every  cheek. 

After  tea  MARIA  withdrew  in  the  garden, 
to  give  her  beloved  an  account  of  what  had  be 
fallen  her  during  their  feparation.  The  elo 
quence  of  forrow  is  irrefiftible.  Mr.  Ki  FILE 
wept,  he  groaned,  while  all  impaffioned  (with 
long  interruptions  of  grief  in  her  voice)  fhe 
Hammered  through  her  doleful  hiftory ;  and 
yet  fhe  felt  a  great  fatisfaclion  in  pouring  her 
complaints  into  a  bofom  whofe  feelings  were 
in  unifon  with  her's — they  wept — they  fmiled 
—they  mourned,  and  rejoiced  alternately, 
with  an  abrupt  tranfition  from  one  paflion  to 

another. 

Mr. 


MARIA  KITTLE.  8$ 

Mr.  KITTLE,  in  return,  informed  her, 
that  having  thrown  himfelf  into  the  army,  in 
hopes  of  ending  a  being  that  grew  infupport- 
able  under  the  reflection  of  paft  happinefs, 
he  tempted  death  in  every  action  wherein  he 
was  engaged,  and  being  difappointed,  gave 
himfelf  up  to  the  blacked  melancholy.  "  This 
*'  gloomy  fcene,"  he  obferved,  "  would  foon 
"  have  been  clofed  by  fome  a6l  of  defpera- 
"  tion;  but  one  evening,  fitting  penfive  in  his 
"  tent,  and  attentively  running  over  the  cir- 
<c  cumftances  of  his  misfortunes,  a  thought 
'  *  darted  on  his  mind  that  poffibly  his  brother 
"  HENRY  might  be  alive."  This  was  the 
firfl  time  the  idea  of  any  one  of  his  family's 
furviving  the  general  murder  had  prefented  it- 
felf  to  h  im,  and  he  caught  at  the  flattering  fug- 
geftion  as  a  drowning  wretch  would  at  a  plank. 
"  Surely,  furely,"  faid  he,  "  my  brother 
t(  lives—it  is  fome  divine  emanation  lights  up 
*  the  thought  in  my  foul— it  carries  convic- 
1  tion  with  it:  I  will  go  after  him — it  fhall 
be  the  comfort  and  employment  of  my  life 
"  to  find  out  this  dear  brother — this  laft  and 
"'  only  treafure."  Perfuaded  of  the  reality  of 
his  fancy,  he  communicated  his  clefign  to  a 
I  few 


86  THE  HISTORY  OI- 

few  of  his  military  friends ;  but  they  only 
laughed  at  his  extravagance,  and  ftrongly  dif- 
iuaded  him  from  fo  wild  an  undertaking.  Be 
ing  difcouraged,  he  deiifted ;  but  fhortly  after, 
hearing  that  a  company  of  prifoners  (who 
were  enfranchifed)  were  returning  to  ^uebec^ 
he  got  per  mi  flion  to  accompany  them.  After 
a  very  fatiguing  journey  he  arrived  at  Mon 
treal^  and  was  immediately  introduced  to  the 
General  Officer,  who  patiently  heard  his  {lory, 
and  treated  him  with  great  clemency.  Hav 
ing  obtained  leave  to  remain  a  few  days  in 
town,  he  refpedtfully  withdrew,  and  turning 
down  a  ftreet  he  inquired  of  a  man  wrho  was 
walking  before  him,  where  lodgings  were  to 
he  let?  The  ftranger  turned  about,  civilly 
taking  off  his  hat,  when  Mr.  KITTLE,  ftart- 
i-ng  back,  grew  as  pale  as  afhes— "  Oh,  my 
"  God!"  cried  he,  panting,  "  oh!  HENRY, 
"  is  it  you!  is  it  indeed  you!  No,  it  cannot 
"  be."  Here  he  was  ready  to  fall ;  but  HEN 
RY,  with  little  lefs  agitation,  Supported  him ; 
and  a  tavern  being  at  hand,  he  led  him  in. 
The  matter  of  the  hotel  brought  in  wine,  and 
.they  drank  off  many  glafTes  to  congratulate  fo 
happy  a  meeting.  When  their  tranfports  were 

abated, 


MARIA  KITTLE.  87 

abated,  HENRY  ventured  to  tell  him  that  his 
MARIA  was  living  and  well.  This  was  a 
weight  of  joy  too  ftrong  for  his  enfeebled  pow 
ers — he  flared  wildly  about.  At  length,  re 
covering  himfelf,  "  Take  care,  HENRY,"  faid 
he,  "  this  is  too  tender  a  point  to  trifle  upon." 
— "  My  brother,"  replied  HENRY,  "becalm, 
"  let  not  your  joy  have  a  worfe  effect  than 
"  your  grief—they  both  came  fudden,  and  it 
61  behoves  a  man  and  a  chriftian  to  ihew  as 
"  much  fortitude  under  the  one  as  the  other." 
— "  Alas !  I  am  prepared  for  fome  woeful  de- 
"  ception,"  cried  Mr.  KITTLE;  but,  HEN- 
"  RY,  this  fufpence  is  cruel." — "  Bytheeter- 
"  nal  God!"^  rejoined  his  brother,  "  your 
"  MARIA,  your  wife,  is  in  this  town,  and  if 
"  you  are  compofed  enough,  you  ihall  imme- 
"  diately  fee  her."  Mr.  KITTLE  could  not 
fpeak — he  gave  his  hand  to  HENRY,  and 
while  (like  the  Apoftles  friends)  he  believed 
not  for  joy,  he  was  conducted  to  her  arms? 
and  found  his  blifs  wonderfully  real. 


THE 


THE 

STORY 

O   F 

H  E  N  R  T    AND    ANNE. 

FOUNDED    ON    FACT. 


ENRY  and  ANNE  were  born  in  Ger 
many,  in  the  Marquifate  of  Baden:  their  pa 
rents  dwelt  contiguous  to  each  other,  arid  the 
mod  fentimental  friendship  fubfifted  between 
the  two  families.  ANNE  was  graceful  even 
in  infancy;  HENRY  tall  and  majeftic,  itrong 
and  active,  though  not  regularly  beautiful : 
their  poverty  early  introduced  them  on  the 
fields :  their  little  hands  were  lacerated  "by  the 
bearded  grain,  and  their  tender  feet  wounde4 
by  the  afperities  of  a  flinty  foil.  ANNE'S 
lovely  complexion  foon  loft  its  delicate  white- 
lids,  but  was  amply  recompenfed  by  the  bloom 
13  of 


<)0  THE  STORY  OF 

of  luxuriant  health.  Whilft  they  toiled  to 
gether  in  gathering  the  ftones  from  .the  green 
furface  of  a  meadow,  or  weeding  the  vines, 
.the  courtly  paflenger  would  flop  and  gaze  witli 
pity  to  fee  fo  much  elegance  and  beauty  of 
form  joined  to  the  fertility  of  unremitted  la 
bour.  HENRY  redoubled  his  exertions  con- 
ftantly  to  leflen  little  ANNE'S  fatigue ;  and 
when  their  talk  was  done,  they  rejoined  their 
ccompanions,  affifted  them  to  complete  their 
•Work,  and  with  gleeful  hearts  fported  them- 
{elves  to  fleep. 

Nor  were  the  old  farmers  difpleafed  to  fee 
tthe  growing  affection  between  their  children : 
"  We  mall  foonbe  clofer  united,"  faid  they; 
••«'  HENRY   and  ANNE    (our  only  offspring) 
"  fhall  cement  our  friendship,  and  perpetuate 
•"  our  names  to  remoteft  centuries."     Alas! 
in  the  midft  of  this  me  hunting  vifion,  an  of 
ficer,  attended  by  a  file  of  .mufqueteers,  de 
manded  HENRY.  He  was  now  leventeen,  full 
grown,  and  muft  enter  his  Lord's  .fervice.     It 
was  in  vain  to  expoflulate.     Without  a  fare- 
-well  figh  from  ANN.E,  or  fcarce  an  embrace 
from  his  diftra&ed  parents,  he  muft  depart. 
Being  eicortcd  to  a  diffant  town,  he  was  there 

initiated 


HENRY  AND  ANNE.  9/1 

initiated  into  all  the  military  manoeuvers,  and 
three  weeks  after  joined  his  regiment,  which 
left  that  part  of  Germany  focn  after.  HENRY'S 
difappointed  love  f\mk  him  into  melancholy — 
he  grew  defperate,  and  negligent  of  life.  In 
a  very  warm  a£Kon,  being  engaged  with  the 
enemy  in  fight  of  the  General,  he  ventured 
himfelf  ramly,  and  fought  without  caution. 
It  was  called  intrepidity,  and  he  was  advanced 
to  the  rank  of  ferjeant.  Having  acquitted 
himfelf  with  honour,  and  the  time  of  his  fer- 
vice  being  elapfed,  his  Captain  gave  him  his 
difcharge,  with  previous  offers  of  promotion 
if  he  would  continue,  in  liis  company.  "  I 
"  bluih  to  decline  my  officer's  generous  pro- 
"  pofal,"  faid  HENRY  ;  "  but  it  is  better  to  be 
"  virtuous  than  fortunate —  I  have  left  three 
"  broken  hearts  at  home,  I  mull  haften  to  heal 
•'*  them — the  foft  voice  of  rny  ANNE  calls  me 
••"  from  the  thunder  of  Bdlona"—"  Go/* 
faid  his  commander  in  a  foftened  tone,  "  I 
**  know  what  love  is — my  HENRY  can  be 
•"  happy,  I  only  great ;"  then  dropping  a  tear, 
t14  Go  HENRY — farewell—-!  know  you  de~ 
to  be  happier  than  I  am." 


92.  THE  STORY  OF 

The  interview  between  the  lovers  was  ten 
der  and  romantic.-— ANNE,  to  confole  her 
HENRY'S  parents,  remitted  not  her  afliduities 
to  pleafe  them.  She  cultivated  their  garden; 
fhe  culled  the  riclieft  fruit  and  brio-hteft  flowers 

O 

to  amufe  them:  her  a&ive  fingers  extended 
an  imperceptible  thread  of  flax  to  provide  them 
linen  of  finer  texture  than  the  product  of 
Egyptian  looms :  fhe  refilled  the  importunity 
of  HENRY'S  rivals  heroically,  while  her  old 
father,  weeping  for  joy,  commended  her  con- 
ftancy.  "  My  child,"  faidhe,  "  thou  art  no 
"  difgrace  to  thy  lineage  ,  HENRY  loves  thee, 
"  he  is  worthy  of  thee,  and  worthy  of  every 
'-*  facrifice  thou  canft  make  him  ;  cheer  up  my 
"  little  one,  he  will  foon  return."—*'  No, 
"  my  father,  fome  inexorable  {hot  will  cleave 
"  his  brave  heart."  So  faying,  (lie  rofe  agi 
tated  from  weeding  a  bed  of  lupins,  when  a  foot 
foldier  approached.  Scarce  had  the  old  man 
civilly  accofted  the  ftranger  over  the  hedge, 
when  ANNE  (creamed  out,  "  Oh  heaven! 
**  father,  it  is  our  HENRY,  our  own  HEN- 
"  RY," — 111  an  inftant  the  family  was  con 
vened  ;  from  tears  they  made  abrupt  tranfitions 
to  mirth,  which  foon  caught  the  ears  of  the 

good 


HENR.V  AND  ANNE.  93 

good  neighbours,  who  came  in  crouds  to  feli 
citate  the  foldier's  arrival.  His  parents  invited 
them  to  return  the  next  day  and  (hare  the  ge 
neral  feftivity,  which  they  freely  accepted, 
and  affifted  to  flaughter  the  poultry  and  fatteft 
lambs.  The  entertainment  was  truly  paftoral. 
The  tables  were  fpread  in  the  vineyard,  be 
neath  verdant  arches  that  \vere  impurpled  by 
weighty  clutters  of  grapes  ;  a  gufhing  fountain 
clofe  by  difpenfed  a  delicious  coolnefs,  and  baf- 
kets  of  flowers  fiUfd  the  air  with  balmy  fweet- 
nefs.  To  heighten  the  fcene,  the  filvery  airs 
of  mufic,  from  the  violin,  harp,  and  melli 
fluous  flute,  foftly  circled  through  the  fky. 
In  fhort,  a  prieft  was  called  and  our  lovers 
married. 

For  two  years  peace  and  plenty  were  their 
houfhold  gods;  but  then  HENRY  feeing  a  fa 
mily  iricreafmg,  began  to  reflect  on  the  means 
of  fupporting  them.  He  had  no  land,  and 
had  never  been  taught  any  mechanical  branch 
of  bufmefs;  however,  after  taking  advice, 
he  purchafed  a  fmall  flock  of  merchandife, 
and  prepared  to  follow  the  army.  The  good 
parents  exhaufted  themfelves  to  increafe  his 
.commodities.  ('  Be  frugal  and  cautious,  fon/* 


94  THE   STORY  OF 

faidthey;  "  remember  ANNE  and  her  babe."1 
— "  Ah!"  cried  HENRY,  embracing  them, 
"  if  I  difhonour  my  parents,  take  ANNE  from 
"  my  bofom,  give  my  paradife  to  a  ftranger, 
"  and  let  me  die  the  death  of  a  villain  !" 

HENRY  vifited  his  beloved  friends  frequent 
ly,  but  the  army  being  ftationed  at  a  confider- 
able  diftance  from  them,  after  an  interval  of 
three  years,  he  fighed  in  abfence  near  eleven 
months;  he  had  accumulated  eight  hundred 
pounds  in  cafh  by  extraordinary  application, 
which  compenfated  in  fome  meafure  this  pain 
ful  feparation,  when  he  received  a  fummons  to 
return  home.  It  feems  his  father-in-law  had 
been  difpoflefTed  of  his  farm,  through  inabi 
lity  to  difcharge  his  rent.  The  good  old  man 
retired  with  his  child  to  HENRY'S  parents, 
where  they  were  cordially  received  ;  but  grief 
made  infenfible  inroads  in  his  conftitution ;  in 
lefs  than  three  weeks  (having  languiihed  a 
few  days)  lie  died  in  ANNE'S  arms. 

HENRY  burft  into  tears  at  the  news.  "  Cru- 
"  el  parent,"  faid  he,  "  you  knew  my  happy 
"  iituation — why  did  you  let  the  canker  of 
"  difappointment  abridge  your  days  ?  my  trea- 
"  fure  was  your  own — I  am  infinitely  your 

"  debtor 


HEKRY  AND   ANNE.  95 

<€  debtor— I  never  yet  earned  my  RACHEL." 
— Having  paid  a  tribute  of  fmcere  drops  of 
gratitude  and  love,  he  fighed  and  went  to  bed ; 
he  flumbered,  and  faw  his  ANNE  fmile  with 
joy  at  the  gold  and  filver  he  poured  at  her  feet: 
his  little  ones  climbed  his  knees,  and  feemed 
to  be  delighted  with  the  glitter  of  his  treafures : 
his  enamoured  fancy  called  up  every  pleafing 
»  idea  to  fport  round  his  innocent  family,  when 
lie  was  fuddenly  awaked  by  four  ruffians,  who 
entered  his  tent  well  armed ;  and,  advancing 
to  his  bed,  bade  him  be  filent,  at  the  peril  of 
immediate  deftru6t.ion.  Regardlefs  of  their 
menaces,  he  darted  up  and  demanded  their 
bufmefs ;  upon  which  they  feized  and  bound 
him  hand  and  foot,  then  fell  to  rummaging  the 
tent.  They  foon  discovered  his  money— 
what  a  glorious  booty  !  In  vain  did  he  plead, 
foothe,  and  threaten.  "  Leave  me  a  few 
*4  pieces :  leave  me  but  a  little,  a  very  little, 
"  to  carry  me  to  my  poor  wife  and  children." 
His  rhetoric  made  no  impreflion — they  left 
him  not  a  fous. 

Being  at  fonie  diftance  from  the  camp,  his 
repeated  calls  for  help  were  not  heard ;  at 
length,  in  the  filence  of  midnight,  a  centinel 

diftinguiihed 


2&  THE  STORY  OF 

diftinguiflied  a  mournful  cry  for  afliftance, 
and  fent  a  couple  of  veterans  to  reconnoitre. 
HENRY,  now  relieved  from  corporeal  con 
finement,  began  to  feel  his  heart  contracted 
and  fhrunk  by  ideas  of  approaching  beggary, 
He  looked  round  him;  the  whole  creation 
feemed  comfortlefs  and  defolate.  "  How  fhall 
"  I  behold  my  domeftic  bleflings?  how  fhall 
"  I  look  ANNE  in  the  face  ?  would  to  God  I  , 
tl  had  tilled  fome  flerile  fpot  of  ground,  we 
*'  would  have  been  content  in  indigence;  na- 
"  ture  would  have  been  fatisfied  with  herbs 
"  and  lentils.  Curfed  ambition  to  be  rich  has 
**  ruined  me,  and  I  am  a  traitor  to  my  fami- 
"  ly."  With  thefe  bitter  reflections  the  day 
broke,  and  having  collected  the  little  furniture 
of  his  tent,  he  difpofed  of  it  to  advantage  to 
the  humane  foldiery,  who  univerfally  loved 
him  and  pitied  his  misfortunes.  Having  fe- 
cured  his  cafh  in  a  fmall  bag,  he  fet  off  with  a 
reluctant  ftep  for  home.  In  vain  did  the  birds 
carol  on  the  elms  that  fliaded  the  road.  In 
vain  did  the  ploughman  whiflle  gleefully,  and 
the  lambs  wanton  o'er  the  green  hillocks. 
No  enlivening  fcene  could  diflipate  his  melan 
choly. 

He 


HENRY  AND  ANNE.  97 

He  protracted  his  journey  through  fear  of 
being  too  foon  the  meffenger  of  ill  tidings. 
On  the  fecond  day  at  noon,  having  bought  a 
loaf  of  bread,  he  fat  down  by  a  rivulet  to  eat; 
his  tears  flowed  apace,  and  he  began  to  deli 
berate  whether  he  fhould  return  to  ANNE  or 
not.     He  counted  his  little  ftore,  and  fell  lift- 
lefs  on  the  grafs  through  defpondency.   While 
thus  he  lay  fadly  ruminating,  a  handfome  cou 
ple  (thinking  themfelves  unobferved)   pafTed 
through  the  bumes.     "  Alas  !"  faid  the  man, 
"  for  fix  years  my  EMMA  you  have  fuftained 
"  the  mofl  bitter  poverty  writh  your  unfortu- 
"  nate  hufband.     My  heart  breaks  under  the 
ic  oppreffion  of  your  mifery;  I  cannot  bear  it 
—return  I  befeech  you,  to  the  Baron ;  afk 
•••  his  fatherly  forgivenefs;  he  will  reinftate 
"  you  to  favour— and  lovely  EMMA  I  fhali 
"  die  content."—"  I  fmile,"  replied  the  fair 
one,  <c  at  your  ignorance;  gold  and  gems  and 
4 '  banquets    have    no    charms    for    me;     my 
"  heart  was  formed  for  focial  happinefs ;    I 
*'  love  you,    and  deprived  of  your  company 
"  I  fliould  languifli  and  die,  whereas  I  feel 
*•*  no  uneafmefs  at  the  abfence  of  riches ;  we 
"  have    enough    to   fubfift   comfortably   on, 
K  «  though 


THE   STORY  OF 

*'  though  it  be  coarfe ;  fo  pray,  my  dear,  drop 
"  this  unwelcome  delicacy.'*  Here  they 
went  out  of  hearing,  and  HENRY,  ftruck 
with  the  lady's  fenfiments,  began  to  refume 
courage.  "  I  am  afhamed,"  faid  he,  "  at 
*'  my  want  of  fortitude ;  here  is  voluntary  po- 
"  verty  accepted  in  preference  of  an  anxious 
"  mind:  furely  ANNE  will  have  as  much 
'*  philofophy  in  that  article  as  the  unfortunate 
"  EMMA:  what  a .deftru£tion  have  I  efcap- 
<;  ed  !  had  I  wandered  away  from  my  defolate 
<£  family,  we  had  .all  been  miferable  indeed.'* 
So  thinking,  he  took  his  pack  on  his  ihoulders 
and  proceeded  on  his  journey. 

The  fourth  evening,  paffing  leifurely  by 
his  deceafed  parent's  door,  he  involuntarily 
turned  back  and  walked  in.  Here  his  feelings 
received  a  new  Hiock.  Strange  faces  accofted 
him— -rudenefs  and  dirt  had  ufurped  the  place 
where  ANNE  once  reigned  the  goddefs  of  ci 
vility  and  neatnefs.  The  green  inclofure, 
furrounded  by  jeiTamine,  was  trampled  on  by 
fwine,  and  lean  cattle  browzed  on  the  vines 
thac  mantled  over  ANNE'S  window.  He  turn 
ed  with  grief  and  difguft  from  this  mortifying 
fcene,  and  had  gone  but  a  little  fari-her,  when 

ANNE 


I-tENKY  A-ND   ANNE.  99 

ANNE  defcrying  him  at  a  diftance,  flew  like 
a  bird  acrois  the  meadow,  and  fell  into  his 
arms.  After  the  fir  ft  emotions  of  tranfport 
were  fubiided,  HENRY  affectionately  em 
braced  his  lovely  babes  and  tender  parents, 
who  met  him  on  the  road.  "I  mifs  but  one 
"  from  this  beloved  company,"  faid  HENRY. 
— ANNE  burft  into  tears.  *'  My  HENRY, 
4t  you  will  mifs  the  chief  of  our  good  neigh- 
**  bourhood— our  indulgent  old  Lord  is  dead  ; 
"  his  tyrannical  heir  oppreiTes  his  tenants  with 
"  heavy  rents  and  fevere  exadtions,  and  they 
"  have  unaniinouily  agreed  to  {helter  them- 
"  felves  from  this  great  burden,  by  flying  to 
"  the  wilds  of  America" 

After  they  were  feated'iii-thehoufe,  "  What 
"  your  fpoufe  advances,"  faid  the  old  man, 
"  is  true;  and  your  aged  parents  would  have 
"  alfa  been  forced  to  venture  their  trembling 
"  limbs  and  grey  hairs  over  the  dangerous 
"  ocean,  had  not  our  bleiTed  HENRY'S  iaduf- 
4<  try  fecured  us-a  competency."  This  trial 
was  too  fevere.  HENRY  changed  counte 
nance,  and  caft  his  eyes  around  with  a  a 
alarming  wildnefs.  "-What  is  the  matter 
"  with  my  child?"  cried  his  mother.  Alas ! 
K  2  this- 


ICO  THE   STORY  OF 

this  encounter  was  too  fudden.  "  Old  and 
"  experienced  as  I  am,  I  feel  almoft  over- 
4 '  come  with  joy  myfelf."— "  Ah  !"  ex 
claimed  her  foil  (recollecting  hirnfelf)  "  fain 
."  would  I  conceal  from  fuch  endearing  friends 
*'  the  motive  of  my  cliftrefs ;  b\it  I  fhould  ex- 
"  pire  in  the  effort :  forgive  and  pity  a  wretch 
"  who  brings  home  nothing  but  mifery — 
<;  who  can  fee  his  family  fall  to  ruin,  and  yet 
"  live."— All  aftonifhed  they  gazed  at  each 
ether  in^llence,  v/hile  HENRY  fobbed,  un 
able  to  articulate  a  word.  At  length  ANNE, 
all  filming  through  tears,  drew  nigh  and 
kneeled  before  him — "  Keep  us  not  in  fuf- 
"  pence,  my  hufband;  pour  your  griefs  into 
*'  our  bcibms,  and  wrong  us  not  by  referve; 
"  you  ctm  never  bring  mifery  to  us  whilft  you 
4i  remain  virtuous  and  loving  as  now."— 
HENRY  clafped  the  fad  orator  with  pafiionate 
fondnefs  in  his  arms;  and  after  a  little  hefita- 
lion  acquainted  them  with  the  particulars  of 
iiis  misfortune. 

It  was  in  vain  to  try  to  conceal  their  furprife 
and  disappointment,  though  HENRY'S  afflic 
tion  forbad  them  to  fall  into  repining,  or  any 
cxpreiilon  of  diltontent.  By  degrees  their 

chagrin 


HENRY  AND   ANNE.  IOI 

chagrin  fubfided.  The  poor  acquiefce  with 
greater  refignation  to  calamity  than  the  rich, 
who  feldomer  meet  with  difappointment.  At 
Jaft,  l^y  an  infeniible  gradation,  our  penfive 
alTociates  became  bled  and  eafy.  A  final!  re- 
pafl  was  provided,  and  Shutting  out  corroiivs 
Care,  they  indulged  the  hour  of  feftivity  with 
as  much  glee  as  if  the  robbers  had  i  efiored  the, 
money  ten  fold. 

The  ftory  of  HENRY'S  robbery  was  foon 
known,  and  his  parents  concluded  that  their 
Lord  would  fhew  fome  lenity  to  them ;  but 
finding  him  invariably  cruel  and  oppreffive, 
they  began  to  attend  to  the  nattering  informa 
tions  about  the  New.  World.— *f  At  lead," 
faid  ANNE,  "•  we  mall  go  into  a  land  of  {im- 
"  plici.ty— -the  artlefs  favages  fubfift  not  by 
"  rapine  and  deceit:  pride  and  hypocrify  and 
"  avarice  are  Grangers  where  luxury  and 
_•**  titles  are  unknown^" — The  old  man  dif- 
fented  from  this  opinion.  "  Wherever  the 
44  prim  of  human  footfteps  liave  appeared, 
**  there  certainly,  my  child,  all  human  vices 
*'  follow,  though  ofteii  under  diiFerent  appel  - 
*'  latives;  however,  we  muft  hazard  this  ad- 
"  venture.  As  the  Lepers  faid  at  Samaria* 
K  3  «  if 


JO2  THE   STORY  OF 

"  if  we  flay  here  we  fhall  certainly  perim, 
"  and  if  we  go  away,  at  the  worft,  we  can 
"  but  die." 

The  enfuing  week,  as  they  were  merrily 
chatting  on  the  green  before  the  door,  a  fud- 
den  cloud  overfpread  the  heavens  with,  black- 
nefs,  which  foon  fell  in  a  torrent  of  rain,  in" 
termi-ngled  with  thunder  and  lightning.  The 
family  retired  in  the  houfe  ;  but  HENRY  hafr- 
ed  to  drive  the  cattle  and  iheep  to  a  place  of 
fecurity.  All  wet  and  dropping  with-  rain  he 
was  returning  to  the  houfe,  when  an  elegant 
phaeton,  attended  by~  a  number  of  domeftics, 
flopped  at  the  gate.  A  gentleman  handed  out 
a  lady,  \vhb  feemed  much  affrighted  with  the 
ftorm,  and  conducted  her,  with  a  delicate  ten- 
dernefs,  to  tlje  door.  HENRY  opened  it  wide, 
and  bowing  to  the  ground,  defired  them  to 
walk  in,  presenting  them  each  with  a  chair. 
The  noble  air,  and  rich  dr-efles  of  tire  new 
gueils,  awed  our  humble  rallies,  who  fcarcely 
durft  lift  up  their  eyes  at  them,  until  the  gen 
tleman,  fainting  the  lady,  inquired  how  his 
fair  EMMA  did  after  her  fright.  HEN R Y  then 
inflantly  recollecting  the  lady's  countenance, 
with  a  modeft  apology  for  his  boldnefs,  re 
counted 


HENRY  AND  ANNE.  lO^ 

counted  his  adventure  at  the  brook—-"  Ipre- 
"  fume,"  addedhe,  "  this  lady  is  the  very  fams 
"  lovely  EMMA  whcfe  noble  difmterefted- 
"  nefs  made  me  blufli  at  my  want  of  fortitude, 
"  and  in  effect  faved  my  family  from  ruin.'* 
Here  EMMA,  flatting  up,  feized  his  hand— 
"  I  little  thought,  my  kind  friend,  that  our 
"  converfation  had  an  auditor  at  that  time; 
"  but  fmce  you  have  been  a  witnefs  of  my 
"  diftrefs,  rejoice  with  me  in  my  prefenthap- 
"  py  fituation."  Here,  refuming  her  feat, 
while  her  fpoufe  hung  enamoured  over  her 
chair,  fhe  favoured  the  attentive  circle  witk 
an  abridgment  of  her  hiftory. — 

"  I  am  the  only  child  of  the  prefent  Baron 
*•'  of  Schauffhoufen,  who  was  particularly  can- 
tl  tious  tliat  my  education  fliould  render  me 
"  up  an  accomplished  lady  to  the  world.  On 
"  my  firft  introduction  into  fazgrandc  monde^ 
"  I  found  myfelf  encompafled  by  admirers, 
<4  whofe  addrefles  I  permitted  from  vanity; 
"  but  advancing  to  my  twentieth  year,  my 
"  father  grew  folicitous  that  I  fliould  felecl:  a 
*'  hufband  from  the  number.  It  was  in  vain 
"  to  remonftrate  to  him  that  my  heart  was  dif- 
"  engaged.  He  infilled  on  my  accepting  a 

"  pariner 


104  THE   STORY  OF 

'•'  partner  for  life. — **  Chufe,  my  child,  (faid 
*'  he,)  throughout  all  the  empire;  you  can 
"  ennoble  a  peafant  by  your  alliance  with 
if  him,  or  caft  a  new  luftre  over  the  efcut- 
"  cheon  of  a  prince." 

"  Seven  months  after  this  I  became  ac- 
*<  quainted  with  my  prefent  hufband  ;  and  not 
**  doubting  but  that  the  Baron  would  accede 
•"  to  our  union,  I  permitted  the  moft  violent 
*'  love  to  fteal  into  my  bofom.  I  acquainted 
4<  him  in  a  dutiful  and  affectionate  manner  of 
"  my  attachment,  to  which  he  made  no  reply ; 
*'  but  turning  from  me  with  a  ftern  look  (to 
"  my  furprife)  iliut  his  elofet  door  full  in  my 
"  face.  In  ten  minutes  I  received  this  note — 

"  If  you  are  determined,  Mifs,  to  debafe 
"  the  nobility  of  your  birth,  by  a  marriage 
"  with  your  prefent  obje&,  I  renounce  you 
4<  forever.  Take  your  jewels  and  clothes, 
**  and  be  miferable. 

"  LODOVICUS  STRELITZ.'? 

«*  I  wept  inceflantly  on  the  perufal  of  thij 
4<  cruel  billet.  I  wrote  one  to  my  lover,  de- 
'*  firing  him  to  forget  me ;  but  before  I  could 
"  difpatch  it,  my  couiin  CHARLOTTE  enter- 

"  ed 


KENRY   AND   ANNE. 

*'  ed  the  room  in  great  confufion.  "  Begone, 
"  EMMA,"  faid  me,  "  your  father  is  exaf- 
"  perated  to  a  degree  of  madnefs.  He  bids 
"  me  to  give  you  this  purfe  of  piftoles,  and 
"  commands  you  to  quit  thecaftle  inftantly." 
— <;  Alas!"  faid  I,  finking  on  the  floor,  "  I 
"  facririce  my  love  to  my  duty.  My  dear 
"  couiin,  tell  my  old  parent  I  am  no  longer 
"  a  rebel  to  his  will."  Here  I  wept  bitter- 
*'  ly ;  but  the  cruel  CHARLOTTE  called  out, 
"  Here,  JOSEPH,  if  the  chaife  is  ready,  hand 
44  your  young  lady  in.  I  am  commiflioned, 
*'  dear  EMMA,  to  wait  on  you  to  another 
"  lodging.  The  angry  Baron  is  from  home, 
*'  and  I  forfeit  his  favour  if  I  do  not  oblige 
"  you  to  fubmit."— -I  then  rofe  from  my 
"  knees,  and  fullenly  giving  my  hand  to  her, 
"  faid  faintly,  "  I  fee,  CHARLOTTE,  you 
"  have  fupplanted  me  ;  your  undermining  arts 
**  have  ruined  me."  She  made  no  reply,  and 
**  I  fufFered  myfelf  to  be  conduced  to  the 
"  chaife.  In  two  hours  we  came  to  a  neat 
"  farm-houfe.  CHARLOTTE  formally  took 
"  leave  of  me,  and  I  v/asflievvnto  a  (mail,  clean 
*'  apartment,  where,  in  a  fit  of  agonizing  def- 
"  pair,  I  threw  myfelf  upon  a  little  bed; 

"  Ths 


IO6  THE   STORY  OF 

"  The  woman  of  the  houfe,  coming  in,  in- 
"  formed  me  that  CHARLOTTE  had  advanced 
"  the  pay  for  my  year's  board  at  her  houfe ; 
u  and  concluding  I  was  fome  refractory  child, 
"  gave  me  a  long  lecture  on  obedience  to  pa- 
*•*  rents.  I  fcarcely  heard  her. 

"  After  a  few  days  I  wrote  to  my  father. 
"  I  begged  the  interceflion  of  my  relations,  but 
'*  in  vain  ^CHARLOTTE  had  flopped  up  every 
s<  avenue  to  mercy.  Finding  my  felt  rejected 
"  totally,  I  at  length  yielded  to  the  emotions 
"  of  a  foft  paruon,  and  accepted  the  hand  of 
"  my  prefent  hufband*  We  lived  happily 
"  during  fix  years,  when,  being  feized  with 
"  a  pleurify,  my  phyfician  made  a  report  of 
"  my  danger  and  poverty  to  my  father.  We 
**  had  a  fmall  hut  on  the  common.  The 
**  Baron's  coach  drove  up  to  the  door.  He 
"  ftooped  as  he  entered,  and  walked  cautiout- 
t(  ly  over  the  loofe  uneven  floor  of  my  poor 
"  bed-rroom,  I  rofe  up  furprifed  to  fee  him ; 
&i  and  as  I  fat  leaning  againft  a  pillow,  the  old 
*'  man,  in  a  gulh  of  grief  and  remorfe,  fell 
<c  on  my  bed  fobbing  and  unable  to  fpeak. 
"  My  two  little  ones  feeing  me  weep,  came, 
**  up  with  vifible  concern.  The  eUeft  kiflbd 


HENRY  AND  ANNE.  IQy 

y"  my  hand  and  faid,  "  Don't  cry  any  more, 
"  mamma,  Mrs.  Mo  RELY  has  fent  us  bread 
"  and  milk  enough  for  t\vo  days."  Here  the 
"  Baron  redoubled  his  fighs  and  feemed  nearly 
«'  fuffocated,  when  I  feebly  bent  towards  him. 
•"  O  my  father!  am  I  then  forgiven?"  But 
*'  what  he  replied  I  know  not — I  fainted  on 
"  the  pillow.  To  be  ihort,  he  took  us  all 
"home.  CHARLOTTE'S  indifcretions  drew 
<  *  the  odium  of  the  family  on  her,  and  a  bro  - 
•*«  ken  lieutenant  carried  her  off  to  England, 
"  My  father  became  ^xceffively  fond  of  my 
"  fpoufe  and  children,  and  we  are  now, upon 
"  a  vifit  to  an  old  aunt,  who  lays  a  dying,  and 
i(  to  whom  I  am  fole  heirefs.  My  friends," 
li  continued  {he,  "I  fee  by  your  looks  my 
41  hiftory  is  not  impertinent,  and  I  acknow- 
(i  ledge  myfelf  yet  indebted  to  HENRY  for  his 
-"  obliging  partiality  to  me." 

ANNE,  with  pleafed  looks,  immediately 
fpread  a  table  with  a  clean  diaper  cloth,  and 
placed  on  ft  feveral  earthen  plates,  filled  with 
the  moft  delicious  fruits,  fome  bifcuits,  a  plate 
with  honey-combs,  and  a  flafk  of  wine  ;  while 
HENRY,  bowing  low,  thanked  the  lady  for 
the  honour  fhe  had  done  him.  "  I  blefs  the 
*;  Almighty,"  faid  HENRY,  "  for  fo  fignally 

4<  rewardinjr 


id8  THE  STORY  OF 

"  rewarding  virtue.  I  even  rejoice  that  tli2 
*'  Baron's  cruelty  gave  your  excellent  qualities 
"  an  opportunity  to  fhine  out  fo  philosophical- 
<{  ly  in  the  teft  of  poverty.  Believe  me,  Ma- 
"  dam,  the  luftre  of  many  a  foul  lies  hidden 
"  beneath  the  fplendor  of  affluence,  like  the 
"  Grand  Duke's  gems  in  the  green  vault." 
The  gentleman  fmiled — "  And  many  a  fenti- 
"  mental  mind,  my  HENRY,"  faid  he,  "  ;s 
it  ctrcumfcribed  by  poverty,  and  is  of  little 
"  utility  to  mankind  beyond  the  limits  of  his 
"  own  family.  I  heartily  wilh  you,  my  friend, 
"  a  fortune  equal  to  your  merit ;  in  the  mean- 
i;  while  accept  this  trifle,"  handing  him  a 
purfe  with  twenty  piftoles.  HENRY,  amid  the 
higheft  confufion  of  blufhing  gratitude,  re 
ceived  the  gift  gracefully,  and  prefled  his  be 
nefactors  to  accept  of  his  little  regale.  When 
they  had  eat,  the  fun  tegan  to  mine  out  with 
new  luflre  after  the  rain,  and  EMMA  propofed 
to  proceed  on  their  journey.  She  took  a  ten 
der  leave  of  HENRY,  and  kiffing  AN^E,  ftept 
into  the  carriage,  which  inftantly  drove  out 
of  fight. 

Soon    after  this  agreeable  interview,    they 
prepared  for  their  long  voyage.     The  penfive 

neighbours 


HENRY  AND  ANNE.  log 

neighbours  affembled,  and  having  delivered 
their  cattle  to  the  Marquis's  fteward,  they  all 
embarked  in  a  finall  veflel  on  lie  Rhine.  After 
a  tedious  fail  down  the  river,  they  were  taken 
aboard  a  fhip  bound  for  New-fork,  in  America* 
A  fair  wind  fprung  up  ;  they  foon  loft  fight  of 
the  Imperial  fhores,  and  found  themfclves  fur- 
rounded  by  a  horizon  of  waters.  The  poor 
cottagers  viewed  the  Uncommon  fcene  with 
pleafure,  mixed  with  dread ;  but  in  a  few  days 
\vere  accuftomed  to  the  profpedfc,  and  great 
agitation  ofahe  veiTel.  HENRY,  to  leflen  the 
cxpence,  had  conditioned  to  work  out  his  paf- 
fage ;  but  he  could  procure  only  very  indiffe 
rent  accommodations  for  his  family,  the  fhip 
feeing  fo  crouded.  After  a  few  weeks  fail 
ANNE'S  elded  fon  fickened  and  died,  and  the 
mournful  parents,  with  agonizing  hearts,  com 
mitted  the  babe  of  their  hopes,  the  darling  of 
their  bofoms,  to  the  waves.  "  There  finks 
«*  my  child,"  cried  ANNE,  weeping,  "  in  the 
**  depth  of  the  wild  ocean  :  inflead  of  flumber- 
*'  ing  in  my  arms,  he  is  gone «|  be  the  food 
"  of  fea  monfters."  HENEiYTuppcrted  and 
comforted  her.  *4  We  have  another,  my 
**  beloved;  let.  us  net  fin  a\vav  the  only  rc- 
L  4<  maining 


(TIO  THE  STORY  OF 

•C{  maining  little  one  by  frultlefs  -repinings; 
•"  our  fon  is  afcended  to  his  Creator ;  it  is  not 
•"  him  that  welters  in  the  deep:  O!  grieve 
"  not  that  he  is  taken  from  the  evil  to  come ; 
"  from  evils  which  we  {hall  yet  forrowover ! 
**  Wifely  and  mercifully  has  Providence  pro- 
•*'  portioned  our  fufferings  to  our  ftrength,  and 
«c  given  the  lenient  hand  of  Time  power  to 
"  mollify  thofe  griefs  he  cannot  cure."  In  a 
little  fpace  ANNE'S  forrows  funk  into  a  lan 
guid  ferenity.  She  began  to  fmile  as  ufual, 
and  HENRY  was  happy. 

They  had  a  tedious  pafFage ;  but  at  length, 
one  moon  (hi  ne  night,  the  failors  cried  out, 
* «  land  ! "  In  a  moment  they  .all  crouded  upon 
deck  :  it  was  very  calm,  and  near  day :  a  gen 
tle  fouth  breeze  arofe  foon  after,  and  by  fun- 
rife  they  clearly  diftinguiihed  the  little  illands 
covered  with  verdure,  and  the  white  beach  on 
the  bold  continent.  As  they  failed  up  the 
Narrows,  with  a  fair  wind,  the  ftrangers 
admired  the  beauty  of  the  country,  which 
they  little  .e  Acted  to  find  fo  well  cultivated. 
When  they  wrere  anchored  in  the  harbour, 
KEXRY  requefted  a  fcull-boat  to  go  on  fhore  ; 
upon  which  an  Engliih  failor  offered  his  a ffc fi 
ance, 


HZNRY  AND  ANNE.  Ill 

ance,  rallying  him  a  little;  "Why,  demme 
*'  brother,  thefe  people  can't  understand  your 
"  gibberi(h;  they  will  let  you  in  the  Mocks 
"  for  a  Jefuit."  They  got  on  iliore,  and  the 
faiior  procured  for  HENRY'S  little  family  a  de 
cent  apartment  in  Beaver-ilreet.  HENRY  ex- 
preffed  his  acknowledgments  to  the  generous- 
faiior,  for  he  really  found  he  fliould  never  have 
been  able,  in  his  uncouth  broken  language, 
to  make  the  people  underfcand  him. 

Here  HENHY  left  his  little  family  while  hrj 
went  to  feek  a  fpot  on  the  vacant  lands  of  this 
Hate,  where  he  might  accommodate  them. 
He  failed  with  a  Dutch  fkipper  to  Albany,  and 
being  informed  by  him  where  he  might  find 
fuch  a  place  as  he  v/iihed  for,  he  fet  off  early 
the  morning  after  his  arrival  on  foot.  As  he 
walked  along  the  clovery  banks  of  the  Hudfon^ 
the  long  beams  of  the  riling  fun  glanced  over 
its  crumpled  furface,  and  gilt  the  oppofite 
ill-ores  with  peculiar  beauty  ;  the  tall  pines  of 
the  adjacent  fore  ft  waved  in  folemn  grandeur? 
the  thruih  warbled  in  the  thick^k  and  at  every 
fhort  diflance  a  little  fountain  Wail  its  (livery 
waves  acrofs  the  \vay,  and  fupplied  the  thirfV/ 
traveller  with  a  feafonable  regale.  Charmed 
L  2  with 


112  THE  STORY  OF 

with  the  fcene,  HENRY  often  flopped.  He 
furveyed  each  opening  profpe£t  with  flngular 
pleafure.  The  bright  rays  of  Hope  again 
dawned  upon  his  foul,  and  difFufed  its  enliven 
ing  influence  through  his  late  uncheery  heart. 
"  Yes,"  faid  he,  "  I  feel  that  we  fliall,  in 
"  the  uncultivated  fore/Is  of  America,  enjoy  that 
"  tranquillity  which  the  inhofpirable  plains 
"  of  Europe  denied  us."  Here  he  was  inter 
rupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  traveller,  who 
no  fooner  perceived  him  than  he  flew  to  him. 

"  O,   my   HE-NRY!" "  O,   my  FRED£- 

"  RICK  !"  were  all  they  could  fay  for  fonae 
time.  They  clafped  each  other  in  their  arms. 
They  wept  and  fmiled  alternately.  It  was  a 
fellow  foldierof  HENRY'S,  a  very  dear  friend. 
After  their  firfb  tranfports  were  over  HEN 
RY  told  him  all  that  had  pafTed  fmce  they 
parted;  and  the  foldier,  in  return,  told  him, 
that  foon  after  HENRY  quitted  the  army  he 
left  it  too,  and  in  hopes  of  fettling  happily  in 
the  village  where  he  was  borri,  had  returned  to 
it  after  an  abijpce  of  fome  years  ;  but  upon  his- 
arrival  there,  finding  his  parents  dead,  and  the 
obje6l  of  his  flncereft  affection  married  to  ario- 
ther,  in  a  fit  of  grief  and  rage  he  left  his  native 

country 


HENRY  A'ND  ANNE.  11-3 

country  and  came  to  America.  "  And  here, 
"  my  friend,"  continued-he,  '*  I  am  happily 
'«  fituated  for  life  ;  I  have  married  an  amiable 
"  woman ;  my  neighbours  are  all  like  bro- 
t(  thers ;  and  the  acquifition.of  your  dear  fami- 
*'  ly  to  our  little  circle  will  add  new  pleafure 
*'  to  it.'* 

The  fun  was  fetting  when  they  entered  the 
beautiful  village  of  'J'omhanick.  The  farmers 
had  nnimed  their  daily  talk,  and  were  fmoak- 
ing  by  their  dooFs,  while  the  younger  tribe 
gamboled  on  the  green  before  them :  the  blufli 
of  health  hung  carelefs  on  every  cheek,  and 
content  fmoothed  every  brow.  FREDERICK 
invited  the  cottagers  home  with  him  ;  and  a^ 
they  were  feated  round  a  table  covered  with 
the  fruits  of  the  feafon,  he  related  to  them  the 
iiiftory  of  HENRY'S  life.  The  good  people 
were  affected  by  the  recital  of  his  misfortunes, 
and  promifed  to  afiTift  him.  "  \rou  have  been 
fl  "unfortunate,"  faid  an  old  man,  "  but  if  you 
"  will  live  as  we  do,  you  ihall  be  happy." 
The  next  day  they  aflembled,  and  in  the  courfe 
of  two  d»ays  they  nnifhed  a  neat  log-houfe  foi^ 
HENRY,  fucli  as  they  themfelves  dwelt  in. 
L  3  with 


114         STORY  OF  HENRY  AND  ANNE. 

With  a  heart  filled  with  gratitude  and  joy, 
foe  returned  to  his  ANNE  ;  he  repeated  the  par 
ticulars  of  his  journey  and  its  happy  iflue,  and 
propofed  their  removal  to  their  new  habitation 
as  focn  as  poflible*  To- this  they  all  aflented 
with  pleafure;  and  having  packed  up  their 
little  effects,  and  paid  their  rent,  they  fet  out 
in  a  few  days  for  ^omhamck*  There  they  were 
received  with  the  moft  hearty  welcomes ;  and 
as  they  were  much  reduced,  each  of  the  neigh 
bours  contributed  fomething  to  raife  HENRY'S 
flock,  and  make  him  happy.  There  they  re- 
fide  ft  ill,  beloved  and  refpecled  by  all,  and 
find  their  induftry  rewarded  by  profperity  and 
contentment.* 


*  The  four  lait  paragraphs  of  this  ftory  were  written  by 
Mrs.  MAR  GAR  ETTA  V.FAU  GERES— indifpofitlon  having 
prevented  Mrs*  EiiJCKZft  C^tr  mothev)  from  co 
it. 


LETTERS, 

r 

I 


LETTERS, 


MY  DEAY  GIRE, 

*  WHEN  I  had  wrote  you  my  laft  narra 
tive,  of  diflrefTes,  I  was  afraid  I  had  difcouraged 
you,  by  my  complaints,  from  continuing  a  cor— 
refpondence  fo  pleafmg  to  me.  My  foul  was 
then  refponlive  only  to  the  voice  of  grief,  and 
the  whole  world  feemed  cheeriefs  to  me  as  the. 
fabled  region  of  Cimmeria.  The  tempeft  of 
my  foul  has  again  fubfided :  Rut,  my  dear,  as 
you  dfefire  to  know  how  we  are  circumftanced, 
m  compliance  with  your  requeft,  I  muft  agaiii- 
wound  your  feelings  with  a  lamentable  ftory: 
therefore,  fadden  your  countenance  according 
ly;  and  I  flipulate,  that  between  every  para 
graph  you  {hall  paufe  and  make  a  moral  re 
flection. 

The  tories  have  viiited  many  of  our  neigh 
bours  in  a  hoftile  manner,  under  the  difguife 
of  Indians.  This  flruck  a  panic  over  the. 

flouteil 


Il6  LETTERS* 

floutefl  of  us ;  but  yefterday  they  feized  aft  old 
man,  andpropofed  the  plundering  of  ourhoufe 
to  him ;  he  declined  it,  though  a*  difaffe&ed 
perfon  himfelf,  and  acquainted  us  with  our 
clanger;  alfp,  that  the  banditti  were  thirty  in 
number.  You  may  guefs  (but  'tis  likely  you 
will  not)  that  our  Jiforder  on  this  exceeded  the 
confufion  of  AGRAMONTA'S  camp:  every 
thing  topfey-turvy,  every  one  hurrying  to  fe~ 
crete  fome  little  bundle  in  an  unfufpe&ed  va 
cancy,  and  one  dreadful  apprehension  expel 
ling  another  ;  for  SUSAN  and  I  ventured  up  in 
a  loft  without  light,  where  fpectres  have  been 
gamboling  for  at  lead  a  dozen  centuries — by 
report. 

We  ft  ill  remain  greatly  alarmed,  and  never 
tindrefs  for  bed.  However,  we  have  pafTed 
the  preceding  feafon  in  fecurity  and  pleafure ; 
we  have  frequently  had  fociable  dances,  which 
t>y  way  of  -eminence  we  ftile  a  ball.  The 
moi\  difagreeable  of  our  hours  are  when  we 
admit  politics  in  our  female  circle :  this  never 
fails  of  opening  a  field  of  nonfenfical  contio- 
verfy  among  our  ladies. 

I  expe6t  fhortly  to  remove  'to  Tomhanick 
again,  where  converfing  with  my  abfent 

ffieuds 


LETTERS.  II^ 

friends  will  be  my  chief  amufement ;  and  as  I 
highly  value  a  fenfible  intelligent  writer,  I 
wifli  I  knew  how  to  bribe  coulin  to  favour 
me  with  her  letters  alfo. 

You  have  omitted,  my  dear,  to  mention  a 
fyllable  of  your  good  mamma  and  Mrs.  B.  but 
even  that  is  a  prefurnption  of  their  welfare. 
Pleafe  to  tender  my  regards  to  them,  and  ac- 
•ceptof  Mr.  BLEECKER'S.  My  little  PEGGY 
begs  leave  to  kifs  your  hands ;  and  I  am,  dear 
girl,  with  unafFe&ed  fjncerity,  your 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
Cojcmansy  April  12,  1779- 


y  April  8,  1780. 

JL  O  U  are  to  look  upon  my  letters  as 
coining  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  (if  a 
fcriptural  phrafe  may  be  allowed)  from  an  ab- 
ftracSted  perfon  who  loves  and  refpe&s  you, 
and  who  contemplates  your  character  with  the 
generous  refinement  with  which  we  think  of 
our  departed  friends ;  that  is,  remembering 
tjieir  bright  qualities  only,  while  their  foibles 
nafs  not  under  the  eye  of  partial  retrofpedlion. 

I  believe, 


LETTERS. 

I  believe,  if  ever  we  meet  on  this  fide  eter 
nity,  my  dear  couiin,  we  ihall  mils  fo  many 
of  our  beloved  friends  as  will  effectually  damp 
all  tranfport;  we  fhall  have  to  mourn  over 
tliofe  that  are  gone,  not  rejoice  over  thofe  who 
are  left.— No,  we  ftiall  never  meet ;  unnum 
bered  rivers,  hills,  and  other  obftacles  arife 
and  intercept  the  very  idea.  But  think  not  I 
ilifiike  my  iiruation  here  ;  on  the  contrary,  I* 
am  charmed  with  the  lovely  fcene  the  fpring 
opens  around  me.-— Alas !  the  wlldernefs  is 
within :  I  mufe  fo  long  on  the  dead  until  I  am. 
unfit  for  the  company  of  the  living.. 

I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  aunt  P.  is  well ;., 
be  pleafed  to  fend  my  tender  regards  to  her. 
Defire  your  dear  mamma  and  coufm  B.  to  ac 
cept  of  my  affection.  I  receive  letters  fre 
quently  from  S.  S.  he  likewife  prefents  his 
refpeds  to  your  family.  Mr.  B.  and  SUSAN 
and  PEGGY  defire  to  be  remembered. 

My  dear,  may  you  have  happinefs  here 
equivalent  to  your  merits,  and  future  blifs 
more  than-  a  mortal  can  deferve,  is  the  iincero 
prayer  of  your  allured  friend, 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 

I  have  hinted  to  PEGGY  that  I  never  .re 
ceive  your  letters,. 

MY 


LETTERS* 
MY  DEAR  COUSIN, 

JL  OljR  letter  was  more  acceptable  to  me 
than  the  finiles  of  the  returning  fpring  after 
this  long  rigid  winter ;  (and  indeed  your  filence 
contributed  to  make  it  more  tedious.)  But  I 
wonder  what  caprice  of  fortune  intercepts  all 
my  epiftles :  furely  me  owes  you  feveral  volu 
minous  pacquets  which  I  committed  to  her 
care.  And  fince  I  am  in  a  vein  of  wondering, 
I  wonder  how  you  could  be  fo  long  ignorant 
of  the  place  of  our  KITTY'S  refidence:  her 
flay  with  us  was  ihort;  the  charming  city 
tempted  her  away:  but  mortly  after  ihe  emi 
grated  to  Halfmoon,  five  miles  from  here, 
where  me  remains. 

As  to  myfelf,  I  have  but  little  to  inform 
you,  unlefs  it  mould  be  the  hiftory  of  my  heart , 
and  even  in  that  there  is  no  novelty.  I  love 
the  fame  perfons,  the  fame  amufements,  the 
fame  opinions  I  did  ten  years  ago.  But  my 
afFe6tion  is  almoft  become  a  painful  fenfation 
to  me ;  for,  except  my  dear  little  family,  all 
my  friends  are  dead,  or  far,  far  abfent.  This, 
the  poet  obferves,  is  the  percmifite  of  long  life  : 
but  my  days  have  been  evil  and  few  :  I  find  no 

difpolltion 


I2O  LETTERS. 

clifpofition  towards  new  attachments ;  and  if 
but  a  few  more  of  thofe  I  love  drop  from  me, 
I  mall  be  left  a  wretched  individual  as  I  began. 

How  mall  I  apologize,  my  coufin,  for  writ 
ing  in  this  ftrain  to  a  fair  lady  who  would 
chufe  to  hear  of  none  but  metaphorical  deaths, 
and  innocerfct  murders  caufed  by  her  eyes  ?  I 
will  exclude  thefe  heavy  ideas,  and  be  gay  to 
pleafe  my  fprightly  correfpondent. 

I  believe  Hymen  likes  a  fouther-n  clime; 
our  northern  blafts  would  blow  out  his  torch  ^ 
but  I  hope  he  will  return  with  the  Zephyrs, 
to  legitimate  feveral  premature  children  in  our 
neighbourhood,  which  Love  has  produced  in 
his  abfence.  I  hear  of  but  one  marriage  round 
here  this  winter.  Our  girls  begin  to  tremble. 
I  believe  I  muft  fend  the  following  advertife- 
ment  to  LOUDON  : — 

<  TWO  young  ladies,  poflefied  of  marry 

*  genteel  accomplishments,  amiable  qualities, 

*  and  every  grace  of  perfon,  are  willing  to  ac- 

*  cept  of  any  continental  officer  as  a  partner 

*  for  life,  provided  he  be  a  gentleman  of  birth, 

*  fortune,  beauty,  and  honour. 

'  <  N.  B.    None  need  apply  but  fuch  as  have 
<  ilgnalizcd  themfelvesin  theprefentcontefL' 

Upon 


LETTERS.  121 

Upon  fecond  thoughts  I  will  defer  it,  as  we 
cannot  poflibly  keep  a  wedding  in  tafte  until 
the  war  is  concluded. 

I  can  rally  no  more,  our  fituation  is  fo  truly 
critical  as  to  render  levity  criminal  in  us.  The 
favages  alarm  us  daily  by  fudden  eruptions  in 
the  country. — Dear  girl,  my  paper  obliges  me 
to  conclude  abruptly :  you  fee  I  have  fcarce 
room  to  prefent  my  love  to  friends,  or  ftile 
myfelf  your  affectionate 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER, 


To  Mifs  V . 

DEAR  GIRL, 


HILE  you  are  entertaining  us  with  ac 
counts  of  the  brilliant  diffipations  of  thcgrande 
monde,  in  return  I  can  only  inform  you  that 
our  trees  here  are  green,  that  the  birds  fmg, 
and  the  rivulets  murmur  ;  themes  that  will  not 
bear  expatiating  on  without  degenerating  into 
downright  poetry ;  and  I  defign  at  prefent  to 
deliver  my  fentiments  in  profe.  I  find  you 
are  making  greater  lamentations  than  ever 
M  JEREMIAH 


122  LETTERS. 

JEREMIAH  did  at  the  removal  of  the  camp, 
Be  comforted  my  dear ;  as  your  irrefiftiblenefles 
have  certainly  captured  many  hearts  in  it,  va~ 
TIOUS  will  be  the  pretences  of  the  military 

petit  maitrcs  for  remaining  at  ;  you 

will  have  a  polite  circle  of  invalids  to  efcort 
you  about  the  country,  nor  be  obliged  to  bend 
-your  ear  to  the  unpolifhed  love-tale  of  a  figh- 
ing  ruftic. 

But,  my  dear,  I  have  been  confidering  in 
•  v/hat  manner  you  will  accommodate  your- 
felves  again  to  the  filent  and  foft  melancholy 

of  a  rural  fcene.  Major  P ,  who  is  here, 

obviates  this  difficulty  by  obferving,  that  the 
clatter  of  three  young  ladies  tongues  will  be 
an  excellent  fubftitute  for  the  thunder  of  can 
non,  drums,  &c.  This  I  would  by  no  means 
admit,  afiuringhim  you  were  a  fuperior  order 
of  beings  to  our  common  chit-chat  females, 
wifhing  him  no  greater  punifhment  for  his 
ralh  judgment  than  once  to  be  expofed  to  an 
ele&rical  glance  from  your  fine  azure  .eyes. 
The  Major  was  convinced,  and  now  fits  in 
duft  and  aflies. 

As  for  S***#,  I  know  of  no  one  inhabitant 
of  our  foreft  /he  can  reafonably  hope  to  make 

a  conqueft 


LETTERS.  123 

a  conqueft  of  except  our  Parfbn,  who,  though, 
paft  his  grand  climacteric,  is  ftill  a  bachelor,, 
a-nd  living  within  point  blank  ihot  of  her  eyes. 
It  is  expected  he  mud  foon  capitulate  or  die. 

We  live  perfectly  retired,  and  fee  very  lit 
tle  company  at  prefent,  as  the  ladies  in  our 
vicinage  are  bufy  hoeing  their  corn  and  plant 
ing  potatoes.  As  we  are  not  quite  fo  well  cal 
culated  for  this  rural  employment,  we  left  the 
fun-burnt  daughters  of  Labour  yefterday,  and 
went  on  pilgrimage  to  the  Half-Moon,  to  viik 
Mrs.  P****s.  Though  patience  is  my  parti 
cular  virtue,  in  our  return  I  was  really  guilty 
of  fome  unphilofophic  invectives  againft  the 
road:  S****  grew  captious  and  fullen:  Mr. 
BkEECKER  contracted  his  brows;  but  juft  as 
he  handed  us  from  the  carriage,  we  were  pre- 
fented  with  your  letters,  which,  in  a  few  mo 
ments,  reftored  us  to  our  former  complacency 
and  good  humour.  You  fee  what  a  good  effect 
your  epiftles  have :  if  you  have  any  thing  of 
a  generous  principle  in  your  eompofition,  I 
am  fure  this  one  motive  will  induce  you  to 
write  often,  very  often.  I  have  enclofed  fome 
verfes  in  compliance  with  your  defire  :  they 
were  compofed  at  the  time  of  our  retreat  from 

M  2  EURGOYNE, 


124  LETTERS. 

BURGOYNE,  the  moft  melancholy  period  of 
my  life ;  fo  if  they  are  too  ferious  for  the  vo 
latility  of  a  gay  lady's  ideas,  hand  them  over  to 
your  good  mamma,  and  I  am  convinced  me 
will  excufe  their  imperfections,  in  refpedt  of 
their  moral  tendency ;  give  my  profound  re- 
fpects  to  her:  pleafe  to  tender  my  "warmeft  af 
fection  to  Mrs.  B.  and  accept  the  hand  of  fm~ 
cere  friendship  from  your 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
ftmhanick,  June  12,  1779- 


ft  Mr.  B 

We d tic f day  Evening,  'July  12,  1779- 
MY  DEAR, 


I 


Could  not  fee  the  folly  and  deformity  of 
iny  impetuous  behaviour  this  morning,  while 
blinded  by  paffion ;  but  after  you  was  gone, 
when  I  felt  lonefome,  and  had  leifure  for  re 
flection,  when  my  fever  returned,  and  I  mif 
fed  that  tender  folicitude  which  always  allevi 
ated  my  pain  when  you  was  near,  I  cannot  de- 

fcribe 


LETTERS.  125 

fcribe  how  exquifite  a  compunction  feized 
me  ;  I  have  been  loft  the  whole  day  in  forrow. 
Good  God!  how  inconfiftent  is  the  human 
mind  !  obitinate  in  paffion,  and  ftormy  as  the 
Cafpian  ;  then  again  foft  and  yielding  to  per- 
fuafion,  as  fnow  before  the  warm  influence 
of  a  fummer  heaven;  and  yet  perhaps  this 
great  agitation  of  the  fpirits  is  meaat  to  keep 
them  from  fubfiding  into  a  flate  of  infenfibility, 
as  ftrong  winds  prevent  the  waters  of  a  lake 
from  ftagnating* 

I  hope  health  and  pleafure  will  attend  you 
in  your  journey,  and  fometimes  I  hope  you 
will  call  in  my  idea  to  amufe  your  iilent  hours 
when  you  ride  alone  through  the  lofty  foreft, 
or  along  the  bank  of  fome  placid  river,  or 
over  fome  flowery  mead,  whofe  glowing  gems 
glitter  beneath  the  cryftal  globules  of  morn 
ing  ;  thefe  objects  infpire  love  and  foftnefs, 
and  it  is  in  fuch  moments  I  would  fain  have 
you  think  of  me.  My  head  aches,  I  muft  lie 


TJiurfday  Evening,  July  22. 
I  HAVE  been  very  fick,  and  kept  my  bed 
all  day.    Your  abfence  increafcs  my  diforder  : 
M  3  O  how 


126  LETTERS. 

0  how  folitary  am  I  in  this  great  city  !  Adieu, 

1  am  too  unwell  to  fit  up. 

Friday  Evening,  July  23. 
I  FIND  myfelf  better.  Mrs.  V.  S.  paid 
us  a  vilit  this  afternoon:  after  tea  {he  per- 
fuaded  me  to  walk  out ;  the  evening  was  love 
ly,  the  fun  {hone  with  a  peculiar  foftnefs 
through  the  humid  atmofphere,  and  the  glaffy 
Hudfon  blufhed  at  the  brightnefs  of  the  paint 
ed  heaven;  (pardon  my  poetical  phrenzy;) 
fout  not  the  blufhing  river,  nor  glowing  ikies, 
nor  fmiling  fun  could  conquer  my  invincible 
melancholy.  Here  am  I  returned  in  as  great 
a  humour  for  moralizing  as  ever  PLATO  was: 
however,  I  {hall  quit  troubling  you  to-night 
with  my  reflections,  and  perhaps  to-morrow 
a  more  agreeable  fubjecl  may  occur.  You 
fee  I  continue  writing  till  fome  opportunity 
:bids  me  clofe  the  dull  journal.  Good  night. 
ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER, 


1ETTERS, 


i 


To  Mlfs  V  ------  . 

Tcm/ianick,  Off.  29,  1779. 


Begin  to  refent  yourfilence,  my  lovely  cou- 

fin.     I  have  fent  a  large  paquet  to , 

but  find  no  return.  I  am  not  fldlled  in  divi 
nation,  yet  I  am  tempted  to  interpret  your 
omiffion  into  an  omen  of  declining  friend- 
fhip.  No,  I  rejea  the  thought;  my  P****, 
my  M****,  have  not  fuch  very  mutable 
hearts ;  my  letters  have  either  wandered  aftray^ 
or  my  dear  girls  have  been  prevented  anfwer- 
ing  as  yet. 

I  can  communicate  nothing  that  may  pro 
long  this  letter  agreeably.  The  glories  of 
Cummer  (my  ufual  topic)  languifh  and  lofe 
their  luftre ;  the  air^r  cliffs  and  deep  forefts 
echo  nothing  but  ftorms ;  we  have  not  even 
one  bird  left  with  whofe  warbling  I  might  de 
light  you,  nor  one  made  where  I  can  com 
fortably  recline  to  Jefcribe  a  lovely  landfcape 
to  your  ladyfhip.  When  vernal  funs  fhail 
again  kindle  a  glow  of  beauty  on  the  face  of 
Creation,  I  may  poflibly  entertain  you  with 
my  Sylvan  improvements;  till  then  accept^ 
dear  girl,  of  tea-table  news  and  politics. 

We 


128  LETTERS. 

We  are  flattered  here  with  an  account  that 
General  WASHINGTON  is  preparing  to  inveft 
New-York,    that   the  enemy  have  evacuated 
Rhode-IJland  and  the  Highland  forts,  and  that 
Count  DE    ESTAING'S  fquadron   is  at  the 
Hook.     In  confequence   of  this  our  militia 
are  ordered  to  garrifon  the   frontier  towns. 
Mr.  B.  marches  to-morrow  to  Fort-Edward, 
on  a  three  months  expedition ;   S****  and  I, 
in  the  interim,    will  be  cloiftered,  iliut  up,, 
imprifoned,   (pray  help  me  to  a  more  empha- 
tical  word  to  exprefs  our  confinement,)  for 
we  have  no  other  paffable  gallant,  and  we 
dare  not  venture  alone  through  our  woods, 
which  are  infefted  at  prefent  by  wolves  and 
bears,  who   growl   even  in  our  very  court 
yard.     S****,  however,  depends  upon  vifit- 
ing  the  Albany  weekly  balls  with  an  efcort  of 
Majors,  Comets,  and  other  military  gentle 
men  \  bat  ihe  is  ill-prepared  for  fuch  a  fcene, 
being,  to  my  knowledge,  in  the  thirty-third 
page  of  HOMER'S  OdylTy,  which  will  utter- 
ly  difqualify  her  for  fuch  idle  company,  and  I 
fend  her  to  the  loom  with  PENELOPE. 
ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 


LETTERS.  229 

?0  Mlfs   -— , 

JL  OU  afk  me  whether  I  am  fmcere  ?  To 
difguife  my  fentiments  is  an  art  I  have  yet  to 
learn.  I  wifh,  my  dear,  I  had  fome  fpice  of 
the  hypocrite ;  I  mould  then  poflibly  attain  a, 
better  knowledge  of  this  world,  which  de- 
ferves  to  be  treated  with  lefs  candour.  I  have 
fludied  it  but  fuperficiaily  ;  and  the  more  I 
confider  it,  the  lefs  I  like  it.  You,  my  dear, 
have  met  with  rough  tempefts  in  it ;  and  I, 
who  have  encountered  rougher,  can  now  fin- 
cerely  fympathize  with  you.  The  melan 
choly  vein  that  ran  through  your  letter  won 
derfully  affe&ed  me.  SUSAN  too  has  a  kind 
fufceptible  heart:  .Ihe  feels,  fhe  refents  your 
injuries. 

Mr.  POPE  obferves,  that  refignation  is  the 
moft  melancholy  of  all  the  virtues ;  but  we 
can  combat  Fate  with  no  other  weapon  than 
Patience,  and  it  is  not  fo  hard  to  effe6t  as  we 
are  apt  to  imagine ;  the  pra&ice  is  eafy  and  full 
of  confolation.  The  over- wearied  traveller 
fits  down  dejected,  benighted,  and  thinks  lie 
can  go  no  farther  j  but  he  foon  finds  that  very 

refpite 


130        x  LETTERS. 

refpite  which  was  the  refult  of  his  defpair,  has 
enabled  him  to  proceed  cheeriy  on  his  jour 
ney.  Truft  in  God  then  my  friend,  he  will 
make  plain  the  rough  path,  and  the  crooked 
flraight ;  your  virtues  will  furvive  obloquy  and 
reproach,  they  will  even  mine  the  brighter 
for  it,  and  I  am  fure  you  have  loft  no  real 
friend  by  it.  , 

When  will  you  come  to  us  ?  we  will  fhut 
out  the  world  ;  we  will  fhut  out  every  thing 
but  love  and  joy.  My  heart  tells  me  we  will 
foon  meet,  and  that  is  happinefs:  Perhaps  I 
may  be  deceived ;  t>ut  you  never  will,  my  dear, 
in  believing  me  to  be  your  affured  and  tender 
friend, 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER, 
Tomhanick,  Sspt.  3,  1779- 


To  Mifs  A.  M.  V- 


HETHER  a  fedentary  life  has  a  heavy 
influence  on  my  temper,  or  that  I  am  verging 
to  a  period  of  life  in  which  we  confider  things 
fm  a  moral  point  of  view  only,  I  know  not  r 

but 


LETTERS. 

but  I -find  that  I  often  differ  a  conflraint  when 
I  affect  to  be  gay,  and  trifle  as  formerly.  But 
I  am  under  no  concern,  my  dear,  of  difguft- 
ing  you  by  being  ferions ;  your  judgment  is 
mature  as  my  years,  and  puts  us  on  a  level : 
however,  I  promife  to  be  lively  when  I  can, 
and  expect  you  will  not  give  me  caufe  to 
make  the  fcriptural  complaint,  "  I  have  pip- 
"  ed,  and  ye  have  not  danced ;  I  have  mourn- 
"  ed,  and  ye  have,  not  wept." 

We  have  been  often  alarmed  this  fummer 
by  unexpected  eruptions  of  the  favages  on  the 
frontiers,  and  once  in  actual  flight,  when  Mr. 
PARKS  was  killed  at. Fort-Edward.  I  never 
faw  fo  .  general  a  panic  as  that  affair  ftruck 
through  the  country :  but  our  late  fuffering  by 
the  rapid  approaches  of  an  enemy,  is  fome 
apology  for  the  prefent  apprehenfions. 

I  hope  the  winter  will  reftore  tranquillity  to 
us,  when  we  mail  no  more  "  tremble  at  the 
"  making  of  a  leaf,"  but  form  a  happy  circle 
round  the  fire-fide.  Ah,  my  dear  coufm  ! 
that  circle  has  been  imperfect  fmce  the  death 
of  my  dear  mamma,  my  dear  ABELLA.  But 
let  me  not  repine,  I  have  had  my  days  of 
more  than  human  happinefs  with  them;  let" 

me. 


IJ2  LETTERS. 

me  alfo  fit  out  my  night  of  affliction  content, 
efpecially  fmce  it  admits  of  much  alleviation 
by  the  prefence  of  a  few  furviving  beloved 
friends.  Truly,  my  coufin,  friendfhip  is 
happinefs.;  diffolve  every  tender  attachment, 
fet  the  foul  independent  of  all  focial  connec 
tions,  and  its  exiftence  will  become  comfort- 
lefs  and  burthenfome.  A  Paradife  could  not 
fatisfy  ADAM  without  an  EVE.  A  fine  wri 
ter  elegantly  fays,  I  fee  no  fun/lime  but  in  the 
face  of  a  friend.  To  trifle  a  little  with  the 
metaphor — I  am  condemned  to  moon-light, 
as  I  fee  your' s  only  by  reflection ;  that  is,  by 
your  letters. 

Dear  girl,  I  admire  (in  common  with 
the  world)  your  wit  and  beauty ;  but  it  is  your 
good  fenfe  and  amiable  qualities  have  fixed  me 
fo  entirely  you  affectionate  friend, 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 

Tomhanick,  Sept.  4,  1779- 


i 


v — . 

MY  VER.Y  DEAR  COUSIN, 


T  was  but  yefterday  I  clofed  my  letter  to 
you ;  but  an  hour  before  my  blefled  hufband 

was 


•LETTERS.  133 

•was  torn  (perhaps  for  ever)  from  my  arms :  he 
•was  taken  by  tories  in  fight  of  his  houfe.  O  ! 
thjs  cruel  difafter  has  crufhed  me  to  the  cen 
tre  :  I  am  funk  deeper  than  the  grave.  In 
the  bitternefs  of  my  foul  I  forget  to  eat  my 
bread,  and  mingle  my  drink  with  tears.  Alas  ! 
the  man  I  have  loft  was  too  good,  too  kind  ; 
his  qualities  were  fo  gentle  and  amiable  ;  he 
loved  me  with  too  great  an  excefs  of  tender- 
nefs ;  with  fo  much  delicacy  and  foftnefs,  as 
becomes  very  painful  for  me  to  recollect : 
And  his  afFe&ion  feemed  to  increafe  every 
day:  he  was  always  endeavouring  to  pleafe 
me;  always  anxious  about  my  happinefs.  If 
I  looked  but  a  little  penfive,  he  was  alarmed. 
It  was  but  two  nights  ago  that  he  waked  me 
by  putting  his  hand  acrofs  my  forehead,  and 
finding  me  in  a  cold  clammy  fweat,  he  ftarted 
up  and  got  me  a  glafs  of  wTine.  I  was  not 
fenfible  of  any  diforder,  but  was  furprifed  to 
find  myfelf  cold  as  a  corpfe.  I  fat  up,  while 
he,  kneeling  by  the  bed  fide,  grafped  my  hand 
in  an  agony  of  concern  and  tendernefs.  "  Ah  ! 
"  my  beloved,  (faid  he)  we  muft  quit  'this 
"  place:  you  try  to  hide  your  diftrefs  from 
i  "  me,  but  I  perceive  your  mind  is  filled  with 
-  N  "  dreadful 


•134  LETTERS. 

*l  dreadful  pr-efages."  Alas !  my  dear,  pray 
'for  me,  that  the  God  of  all  compaffions  may 
.pity  him,  and  reftore  him  to  my  bleeding  bo- 
,fom.  O!  my  forrows  are  fwelled  to  .a  de 
luge  ;  they  overwhelm  me.  Almighty  God, 
;I  fink,  I  periih  under  the  ftroke  of  thy  hand  ! 
fave  me  from  temptation  in  this  my  hour  of 
darknefs  and  horror!  Surely  this  is  a  day  of 
.trouble  and  aftonimment.to  me.  O  that  we 
,all  refted  in  the  quiet  grave  together  ! 

My  dear  coufm,  try  (if  you  pleafe)  t© 
•fend- the  inclofed  incoherent  lines  to  my 'bro 
ther.  Adieu !  adieu !  and  may  the  merciful 
God  fhowerhis  bleflings  on  your  family. 

,AN:N  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
.1781. 


To  Mlfs  V -. 

DEAR  PEGGY, 


B 


Y    a  mod  wonderful  train  of  furprifmg 
rovidences  my  beloved  hufband  is  reftored  to 
my  arms.     I  fhall,  in  the  nmpleft  manner,  re 
late  his  happy  efcape  ;   but  your  gentle  bofom 
beft  tell  you   my  happy  feelings  on  this 

occafion. 


LETTERS.  13^ 

occafion. — fTe  was  bufiecl  in  the  harveft,  at  a 
fmalldiftance  from  the  houfe ;  but  having  been 
previbufly  menaced  by  our  inveterate  tories, 
and  my  heart  pref  aging  fome  heavy  calamity, 
I  prefTed  him  to  remain  at  home,  but  without 
effcdh  Towards  evening,  parting  from  his 
labourers,  he  was  returning  home  with  old 
MEE.KEE,  a  white  fervant,  and  a  load  of  wheat ; 
when  fix  men,  ftarting.from  among  the  bumes, 
prefented  their  fixed  bayonets  to  his  bread, 
bidding  him  to  furrender  or  he  was  a  dead  man, 
*'  I  yield  myfelf,"  cried  he  in  furprife,  "  pro- 
"  vided  you  promife  to  ufe  me  as  a  gentle- 
"  man."— "'You  lhall  be  ufed,"  replied  their 
leader,  "  as  a  prifoner  of  war  commonly  is.'* 
Upon  this  they  were  taken  farther  in  the  wood, 
where  they  pinioned  my  hufband ;  a  cut-throat 
looking  Heman  leading  him  by  the  rope  with 
one  hand,  while  the  other  held  a  tomahawk, 
with  which  he  fwore  to  difpatch  the  prifoner 
if  purfued.  But  his  great  anguiih  for.  me  made 
him  infenfible  of  fear ;  he  begged,  in  the  moft 
pathetic  terms,  that  the  negro  might  return  to 
let  me  know  what  was  become  of  him.,  but  all 
in  vain.  MERKEE  wept  bitterly—'4  O!" 
faid  he,  "  I  am  an  old  negro— no  matter  for 
N  2  "--me  ^ 


136  LETTERS. 

*-'  me ;  but  my  good  mailer  is  a  young  man, 
'  "  and  my  dear  miftrefs  will  break  her  heart — 
"  fhe  will  die/'  After  a  moil  fatiguing  and 
rapid  march,  towards  day  they  encamped  in  a 
deep  fwamp,  where  they  produced  General 
St.  LEDGER'S  orders  to  take  my  hufband  and 
bring  him  to  Canada,  but  to  ufe  him  tenderly, 
take  particular  care  of  his  health,  and  not  to 
pillage  his  houfe.  They  had  watched  for  him 
four  days,  on  a  fmall  afoent  which  command 
ed  a  full  view  of  whatever  was  tranfa6led  in. 
our  family ;  but  growing  impatient,  they  had 
determined  to  ftorm  the  houfe  that  very  night ; 
and  fwore,  had  they  met  with  refifbnce,  they 
would  have  facrified  the  whole  family.  The 
party  confifled  of  three  tories,  one  Heffian, 
and  two  Britifh  ;  they  were  afterwards  joined 
by  two  more  tories.  The  Britifh  were  hu 
mane,  and  wept  whenever  my  fad  fpoufe  de 
plored  the  mournful  fate  of  his  wife  and  child. 
After  three  nights  march  through  horrid 
woods,  (for  they  flept  in  the  day)  my  huf- 
band's  intreatics  prevailed  on  them  to  let  the 
boy  return  with  a^  letter  for  me.  When  he 
read  it  to  them,  moft  of  them  fhed  tears,  and 
fwore  it  was  damned  hard  a  gentleman  ihould 
fufFer  fo,  but  they  mufl  obey  their  orders. 

When 


LETTERS.  137 

When  the  fourth  evening  arrived,  defpair- 
ing  of  relief,  (though  he  ftill  looked  up  to 
God  with  a  hopelefs  kind  of  dependence,) 
three  Yankees  appeared  a  little  way  off.  One 
of  whom,  advancing,  bade  them  furrender; 
butmiftaking  BLEECKER  for  the  commander 
(not  obferving  his  ropes,)  he  prefentect  his 
piece  to  (hoot  him  through  the  head,  when  the 
lories,  feeing  a  large  party  coming  up,  ground 
ed  their  arms.  They  all  proceeded  to  Benmng- 
ton,  where  the  party  is4aid  in  irons;  while 
my  fpoufe  new  to  my  arms  amid  the  {bouts 
and  congratulations  of  the  whole  city,  which 
had  feemed  wonderfully  anxious  about  his 
fate.  As  to  my  own  wanderings,  they  were 
trifling.  I  fled  inftantly  from  a  place  where 

every  obje£t  prefented  me  w  ith  horror.    S , 

after  weeping  for  feveral  minutes  on  my  neck, 
from  a  noble  exertion  of  fortitude  and  friend- 
{hip,.mfifted  on  remaining  there  a  while  to 
have  an  eye  to  cur  effedh.  Our  wailings  filled 
the  difmally  echoing  foreft ;  even  the  tory 
women  melted  into  tears  and  companion,  and 
feveral  fainted  in  the  hall.  You  may  judge 
with  what  a  broken  heart  I  entered  Albany; 
but  bleiTed  be  the  Saviour  of  Inmers,  I  found 
it  kind  and  fympathifing  beyond  my  merits. 
N  3  How 


138  LETTERS. 

How  my  dear  lover  and  myfelf  have  fup- 
ported  our  trials  I  know  not ;  but  (as  MARIA 
of  Moliniom  obferves)  "  Heaven  tempers  the 
"  wind  to  the  fhorn  lamb."  The  hand  of 
an  Almighty  Prote&or  was  fo  obvious  in  lead 
ing  my  hufband  through  his  imminent  dan 
gers,  and  "  hair  breadth  efcapes,"  that  on  his 
return  home  (he  told  me)  he  aim  oft  fainted 
under  his  gratitude,  and  had  fo  firm  a  trufl  and 
reliance  on  the  goodnefs  of  God,  that  had  he 
been  furprifed  by  a  new  party,  he  would  have 
been  afTuredly  confident  of  again  efcaping. 
My  hour  of  darknefs  and  aftonifhment  was 
very  great :  I  prayed  with  unknown  fervency ; 
but,  O !  I  lifted  my  broken  heart  in  defpair : 
great  God  !  I  will  no  more  diftruft  thy  love ; 
I  will  endeavour  no  more  to  offend  thee.  Ah  ! 
how  infipid,  how  trifling  appear  the  honours, 
and  riches,  and  vanities  of  life,  to  being 
held  in  the  fhadow  of  his  hand  who  is  the 
living  God ;  to  having  him  on  our  fide  who 
is  the  Arbiter  of  all  nature  !  Rejoice  with  us, 
my  coufm. 

We  ihall  now  remain  in  Albany.  I  am,  my 
beloved  coufln,  your  happy  and  affectionate 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
Albany,  Auguft  9,   1781. 


LETTERS.  139 

70  Mrs.  F.  at  Mount-Hope. 

JL  Sit  down,  dear  BETSEY,  to  congratulate 
you  on  a  new  occaiion  of  happinefs  to  your 
family,  by  the  birth  of  another  daughter. 
This  agreeble  event  I  never  was  informed  of 
until  this  morning,  and  though  you  may  think 
my  compliment  of  the  hteft,  yet  I  would 
rather  be  thought  impertinent  than  unfriend 
ly.  I  fancy  you  exclaim  with  LEAH,  (in 
your  exultation)  "  a  troop  cometh."  Happy 
are  you,  my  coufm,  enjoying  health,,  peace 
and  every  domeftic  bieiling*  Content  hath 
limited  your  defires  to  your  own  manfion  ; 
and  there  .every  innocent  pleafure  waits  to 
gratify  them.  All  that  remains  is  to  wifh 
you  may  infure  thofe  mercies  by  a  grateful  dif- 
pofition  to  the  giver  of  them. 

Our  fituation  is  more  precarious.  To-day, 
happy  in  our  Sylvan  recefs,  furrouncled  by 
blooming  gardens,  orchards,  and  well  culti 
vated  fields ;  the  whole  valley  echoing  with 
the  Heatings  of  fheep,  £tc.  and  an  air  of  tran 
quillity  and  plenty  diffufed  around  our  cotta 
ges  :  to-morrow,  even  this  very  night,  the  de- 
flroying  favage  may  change  this  pleafing  prof- 


14<D  LETTERS. 

peel  into  defolation  and  undiftinguiihed  ruin: 
and  yet  I  am  unwilling  to  quit  my  beloved 
retreat,  the  fcene  of  many  recent  forrows  to 
rne,  but  (let  me  confefs  with  pleafing  recol 
lection)  of  many,  many  former  bleflings.  The 
death  of  my  dear  mother  has  produced  a  dread 
ful  chafm  in  my  family ;  and  though  I  have 
enough  rouad  me  whofe  tender  affiduities 
would  confole  me  for  a  lefs  misfortune,  fo  ca 
pital  a  lofs  I  {hall  mourn  through  life.  I  know, 
by  former  obfervation,  dear  BETSEY,  that  you 
have  a  very  feeling  heart :  you  cannot  look 
back  to  the  period  when  your  mother  and  mine 
interchanged  the  moft  delicate  offices  of  friend- 
fhip,  and  fat  us  art  example  of  the  brighteft 
virtue,  without  a  fentiment  of  gratitude  and 
regret  for  their  lofs ;  even  now  their  image 
rifes  to  my  fancy,  pure,  lovely  and  placid  as 
while  among  us:  ah!  how  infinitely  exalted 
and  improved  by  their  change  !  Pardon  this 
flight,  my  dear ;  but  let  me  further  infift,  that 
as  our  education  has  given  us  a  fimilarity  of 
ideas,  and  an  equal  bias  to  friendlhip,  fuch 
congenial  minds  ought  not  to  lapfe  into  a 
neglect  of  each  other:  permit  me,  therefore, 
my  lovely  Mrs.  F.  to  renew  our  obfolete  cor- 

reijpondence, 


XETT-ERS.  14-1 

refpondence,  and  after  an  interval  of  many 
years,  to  afliire  you  that  I  am  ft  ill,  with  every- 
fentiment  of  regard,  your 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER^ 
Sept.  6. 


To  Mfs  M,  V .. 


i 


Muft  decline  your  compliments  (or  rather 
oblique  flatteries)  my  lovely  coufin  ;  my  reafon 
will  not  admit  of  them,  whatever  latitude  my 
vanity  might  infift  on.  My  ruftic  mufe  in 
habits  too  frigid  a  clime  to  practice  any  mud- 
cal  notes ;  yet,  like  all  mediocre  fingers,  fhe 
is  willing  to  oblige  company,  without  defer 
ring  the  favour  long,  for  fear  of  enhancing 
their  expectation. 

I  cannot  proceed  a  fentence  further  without 
cxprefling  my  abhorrence  of  that  bafe  villain 
ARNOLD.  I  think  there  is  wanting  in  lan 
guage  an  appellative,  fuitable  to  his  character. 
Strange  !  that  for  a  little  money  a  man  would 
bear  to  have  his  reputation  ftigmatiz-ed  to  eter 
nity,  and  that  a  hero,  as  he  was  ftyled.  What 
a  contrail  between  him  and  the  heroes  of  anti- 


142  LETTERS. 

quity,  who  facrificed  every  thing,  even  life,, 
to  their  fame !  Yet  my  refentment  fubfides- 
into  contempt,  when  I  refleft  what  an  abject, 
vile  wretch  General  ARNOLD  is  become.  The- 
land  he  has  treated  with  ingratitude,  cruelry 
and  perfidy,  abhors  him,  and  no  doubt  the 
nation  he  attempted  to  ferve  defpifes  him.  A 
traitor  is  a  general  object  of  (corn ;  and  if  his 
feelings  are  not  quite  loft  in  apathy,  furely  he 
may  borrow  GAIN'S  exclamation,  "  My  pu- 
"  niihment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear!"  nor 
fliould  I  be  furprifed  to. hear  he  had  concluded, 
his  villainy  by  fome  a6l  of  defperation.  In- 
confequence  of  his  infernal  treaty,  a  party  of 
twelve  hundred'tories,  Indians,  5cc.  have  made 
a  defcent  on  our  northern  frontiers — have  fur 
prifed  Fort-George  and  Fort-Ann,  and  yefter- 
day  demanded  the  furrender  of  Fort -Edward.. 
Our.  militia  are  collecting  very  faft.  Fort- 
Stanwix  we  hear  is  likewife  inverted.  Alas !. 
rny  dear  gid,  my  heart  breaks  for  the  diftrefles 
around  me:  The  innocent  infants,  the  .fun  pie 
women  perifli  unreiifting — fometimes  cruih- 
cd  in  the  flaming  ruins  of  their  own  houfes — 
nothing  but  countenances  of  perplexity  and 
horror  to  be  feen,  and  lamentable  wnilings  to 

be 


fce  heard.  We  are  all  prepared  for  flight  upon 
a  nearer  approach  of  the  enemy;  but  fenfible 
the  moment  we  quit  our  dwelling,  we  fubmit 
them  to  be  plundered.  We  are  determined  to 
remain  until  to-morrow,  when  perhaps  we 
may  have  force  enough  to  repel  the  favages. 
Dear  girl,  wherever  I  am  I  fhali  acquaint  you 
with  our  fituation.  May  heaven  defend  you 
from  hoflile  alarms ;  and  may  you  forget  the 
clamours  of  war  in  the  peacable  enjoyment  of 
<3omeftic  bleffings.  Affbre  your  dear  mamma 
•and  ?vlrs.  B*****  of  my  fmcere  regard ;  and 
Relieve  me  to  be,  with  every  fentiment  of 
cfteem,  dear  MARIA,  your  friend, 

ANN  ELIZA 'BLEECKER, 
Tomhanick,  Off.  12. 

Gfloler  ig. 

I  HAVE  had  no  opportunity  to  fend  this, 
Jb  before  I  clofe  it  muft  inform  you  that  the 
above-mentioned  party  are  returned  to  Lake- 
George.  But  our  fpoufes  are  gone  again  this 
morning  to  Ball's-ffirum,  (fix  miles  to  the  weft 
of  this,)  where  the  Indians  have  burnt  feveral 
houfesJafl  night,  and  carried  off  a  number  of 
prifoners.  To  add  to  our  apprehenfions,  thirty 

fufpecled 


T44-  'XETTEHS. 

fufpe6red  Indians  have  come  among  us,  under 
pretence  of  hunting,  and  neither  threats  not 
good  words  can  prevail  on  them  to  quit  us. 
The  woods  are  likewife  infefted  with  tories, 
forty  having  been  difcovered  in  one  company. 
Were  they  not  fuch  night  deftroyers  I  am  fen- 
fible  we  could  foon  difcomfit  them ;  but  their 
irruptions  are  as  unexpected  as  expeditious. 

Oflober  16. 

SINCE  I  wrote  the  above  our  panic- 
ftricken  neighbourhood  left  their  effects  and 
fled  feveral  miles  ;  but  becoming  a  little  more 
aflured  we  are  returned.  All  the  whig  fami^ 
lies  are  convened  in  my  houfe,  but  not  a  man 
amongft  us  except  my  old  negro  MERKEE, 
who  keeps  the  horfes  in  readinefs  for  us. 
Adieu  !  may  Gocf blefs  you. 


v . 


H 


APPY,  my  incomparable  girl,  is  the 
human  mind,  in  enjoying  fo  great  a  degree  of 
the  benignant  heavenly  attribute,  Love.  It  is 
this  fweet  diftin&ion  that  almofl  raifes  us  to  a 

level 


LETTERS, 

level  with  angels;  this  immortal  magnetifm 
by  which  we  are  led  to  exchange  feelings  \  by 
which,  at  this  moment,  I  forget  my  fears  to 
rejoice  at  your  fafety — while  you,,  in  the  midft 
of  pleafure  and  fe*curity,  fadden  with  generous 
concern  at  the  prefumption  of  my  danger, 
Bleft  be  thbfe  fenfibilities,  my  dear ;  .and  were 
they  universal,  the  arts  of  war  would  yet  have 
flept  in  oblivion. 

Your  very  kind  letters  came  to  hand  teft 
night,  as'SusATC  and  I-~were  fitting  difconfo- 
late  and  npprehenfive  by  the  fire-fide;  but  on 
perufmg  them,  we  infenfibly  forgot  our 
gloomy  fituation,  and  got  fo  engaged  among 
our  R friends,  that  we  pafTed  the  re 
mainder  of  the  evening  in  merrier  chat  than 
we  had  many  preceding  ones. 

To-day  we  have  been  informed  of  Gover 
nor  CLINTON'S  advantage  over  the  enemy  at 
Canajohare :  no  doubt  the  papers  will  give  you 
the  particulars  before  this  can  reach  you:  but 
rejoice  with  us,  my  coufin,  at  this  event,  which 
will  probably  put  a  period  to  this  northern 

maflacre.  I  have  wrote  M a  lamentable 

cpiftle,  which  I  would  fupprefs  had  I  time  to 

write  another  :    but  our  terrors  are  cot  quite 

O  fubfided; 


LETTERS.   . 

fubfided ;  and  as  I  lately  boafted  of  our  heroifm, 
I  am  ready  now  to  write  in  a  flrain  of  pali- 
nody,  and  make  a  formal  recantation. 

I  have  forgot  many  pafTages  in  JOSEPH,  and 
loft  the  manufcript ;  but  if  I  can  poffibly  re 
collect,  it,  I  fhall  fubmit  it  to  your  criticifm. 
However,  I  take  the  freedom  to  trouble  you 
with  a  little  hiftory,*  written  fome  time  ago 
for  SUSAN,  which  being  altogether  a  fact,  may 
give  you  fome  idea  of  favage  cruelty,  and  at 
the  fame  time  will  juftify  our  fears  in  your 
opinion.  How  this  packet  in  folio  will  ever 
arrive  to  you  I  know  not;  it  muft  be  fome  very 
civil  perfon  who  will  adventure  to  take  charge 
of  it:  whoever  it  is,  I  am  highly  obliged  to 
him  ;  but  really  think  his  trouble  will  be  fully 
compenfated  by  the  opportunity  it  will  give 
him  of  feeing  two  of  the  faireft  and  inoft  fen- 
fible  lafles  in  R .  Forgive  this  compli 
ment  ;  it  is  not  flattery  ;  and  fmce  your  pa 
tience  can  hold  out  no  longer,  I  muft,  though 
reluaantly,  finim  this  paper  with  giving  you 
leave  to  write  one  in  return  ten  times  as  long, 
to  your  fmcere  and  affectionate 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 

Oftober  19. 

*  MARIA  KITTLE. 


BETTERS, 


To  Mife  V 

MY  DEAR  PEGGY, 


I 


AM  wholly  difcouraged  from  writing  any 
more  to  your  quarter :  our  letters,  I  am  fenii- 
ble,  are  loft  on  the  way,  as  I  have  not  received 
a  line  from  you  or  M-—  fince  early  laft  fall. 
This  interruption  muft  certainly  be  the  confe- 
quence  of  an  impertinent  curiofity  in  fome 
people,  who  break  evei*y  feal  they  meet  with, 
and  then  deftroy  the  letters  for  fear  of  detection. 
If  this  ihould  fall  into  fuch  hands,  I  muft  ob- 
ferve  to  the  gentlemen  (fewjadies  being  capa 
ble  of  fuch  ungenerofity)  that  fuch  a  proceed 
ing  betrays  a  want  of  common  honefty  and 
common  humanity  in  them.  A  period  is  put 
to  many  tender  friendships  by  thofe  imperti- 
nents,  each  party  refenting  being  neglected  by 
the  other. 

I  hope,  my  dear,  this  mild  winter  prefents 
you  with  every  elegant  pleafure.  The  aiiny 
being  in  your  vicinage,  muft  certainly  be  pro 
ductive  of  entertainment.  S is  at  Albany^ 

and  I  believe  as  fedentary  as  if  ihe  was  at  Tom- 

hanick,     I  expect  her  with  Captains  H and 

O  2  B-— — 


J4&  LETTERS 

B>_ — __  to-morrow,  when  we  (hall  ramble- 
together  through  our  foreft  while  the  fnow 
Jails — Shall  we  never, fee  each  other?-  This 
unlucky  Ne-w-Torb—it  is  almoft  ominous  to 
mention  it;  but  I  often  think  of  it  with  tears, 
and  the  longer  I  am  divided  from  it,  the  clofer 
my  affedtions  are  drawn  to  it. 

I  have  fpent  the  winter  quite  lonefome,  Mr.- 

B being  always  abfent  on  public  bufi- 

nefs,  but  is  now  detained  in  the.cliimney  corner 

by  a  broken  fhin.     I  hear  no  more  of  K ; 

we  have  lately  wrote  to  her,  but  cannot  expecl: 
to  receive,  from  her,  fuch  gay  communicative 
letters  any  more,  as  (he  ufed  to  fend  us  from 
J£ .  I  hope  ihe  finds  it  agreeable. 

I  wonder  you  do  not  fend  off  one  of  your 
beaus  exprefs,  with  a  packet  to  put  me  out'of 
'pain  about  you.  This  undertaking  would 
have  a  double  advantage ;  it  would  highly 
oblige  me,  and  convince  you  of  your  adorer's 
fmcerity  by  his  obedience.  The  beauties  of 
antiquity  always  made  trial  of  their  lovers 
merits,  by  urging  them  on  to  prodigious  ex 
ploits  ;  and  I  defy  you  to  mew  me. a  fingle 
knight  in  hiflory,  enamoured  of  fome  beauti 
ful  princefs,  who  did  not  encounter.fiery  dra 
gons, 


LETTERS.  149   ' 

gons,  kill  giants,  difenchant  mifcrable  ladiea, 
and  run  innumerable  hazards  of  lofinghis  life 
for  her  fake :  and  fhall  a  modern  fair  one  think 
that  her  flave  would  refufe  to  ride  two  hundred 
miles  to  deliver  a  letter  ? 

I  have  fcribbled  until  you  are  tired,  fo  hafle 
to  finifh,  and  am,  "with  the  greateft  refpect  to 
all  your  dear  family,  (whom  I  fincerely  love) 
amiable  coufm,.  tenderly  your's, 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKEJU 
,  January  24., 


Za  Mifs  X**  E***.. 

December, 
MY  DEAREST.  SUSAN,, 

V-/-UR  mutual  fufferings, through  a  remark* 
able  train  of  unfortunate  events,  have  fo  en* 
deared  you  to  me,  that  I  bear  your  abfence 
with  for  row  and/anxiety.  After  your  depar 
ture  my  poor  PEGGY  was  feized  with  a  putrid 
fever,  which  ahnoftf  fent  her  into  eternity  : 
my  feelings  on  this  occalion  were  exquifitely 
O  3  painful- 


X-ETTERS. 

painful;  but  blefled  be  God  this  cloud  alfo 
paffed  over  my  head,  and  fhe  recovers  finely 
after  two  relapfes. 

Would  you  believe  it,  my  dear,  we  are 
again  at  ^Tomhanick,  in  my  old  apartment, 
agreeably  fituated  in  the  neighbourhood  of 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  B -,  who  live  in  the  weft 

part  of  my  houfe.  Albany  became  infupport- 
able  to  me ;  I  would  rather  have  lived  irt 
ROLANDO'S  Cavern,  than  in  that  unfociable, 
illiterate,  flupid  town;  I  prefer  folitude  to 
fuch  company ;  but  I  mifs  you,  my  fifter,  in 
every  part  of  this  houfe ;  the  hall,  the  little 
room,  &;c.  continually  remind  me  of  the  plea- 
fant  hours  we  have  paffed  together  in  this  un- 
envied  retirement.  Will  you  not  return  be 
fore  fpring?  Ah!  SUSAN,  if  you  do  not  I 
fhall  begin  the  labours  of  our  flower  beds  with 
a  heavy  heart ;  your  favourite  lillies  will  droop  ; 
nor  ihall  I  have  courage  to  difengage  your 
pinks  from  entangling  weeds :  endeavour,  my 
dear,  to  come  up  ;  1  am  fure  we  fhall  be  happy 
together.  I  received  your  obliging  prefent,. 
for  which  I  fmcerely  thank  you,  and  hope 
you  enjoy  all  poilible  felicity  in  Jerfey,  whofe 
prefent  gaity  is  fuitable  to  your  youth  and 

fprightlinefs : 


LETTERS.  !£! 

fprightlinefs :  as  for  my  difpofition,  depreiTed 
by  calamities,  worn  out  with  forrows,  the  pen- 
five  foftnef§  of  a  rural  life  accords  beft  with 
it. 

Again  I  am  left  folitary :  Mr.  B 7-  went 

this  morning  on  an  expedition  againft  the  ille 
gitimate  Vermonters,  (or  new  claimants)  with 
Col.  R ,  from  the  Manor,  who  ar 
rived  here  laft  night  with  his  regiment,  and 
eat  up  all  my  ducks  and  faufages.  The  new 
claimants  are  collected  at  Sinchoick,  and  form, 
a  little  army:  they  have  miferably  mauled 

poor  F and  R ,   who  keep  their 

beds.  Our  (mail  force  there  inereafes  daily, 
and  begins  to  brow -beat  the  enemy:  in  mort, 
we  are  all  anarchy  and  confufion :  heaven-only 
knows  when  it  will  end. 

The  moft  tragical  affair  has  happened  here 
that  I  ever  remember  to  have  heard  of.  JAMES 
YATES,  (a  fon  of  him  at  Pittas-Town ,J  a  few 
nights  ago  murdered  his  wife,  four  children, 
his  horfes  and  cow,  with  circumfrances  of 
cruelty  too  horrid  to  mention:  by  all  appear 
ance  he  is  a  religious  lunatic.. 

Dear  Sufan,  how  mall  I  conclude?  when, 
writing  to  you  my  pen  infenfibly  draws  me 

beyoucL 


I  $%  LETTERS, 

beyond  the  common  limits  of  a  letter; 
knowyou  will  be  fond  of  hearing  every  mi 
nute   particular  refpecting   poor    Tomhanick, 
where  I  flatter  myfelf  you  have  enjoyed  fame, 
hours  of  pleafure. 

Neighbour  F- —  has  had  his  fhop  burnt  off 
yefterday,  together  with  his  waggon,  ileigh> 
winter's  provih'on,  and  many  other  articles-. 
Your  old  friend  LETTY  B-~  —  is  well,  and 
at  this  moment  fparking  with  your  old  admirer 

R .     Let  me  fee,  have  I  no  more  news^ 

Alas!  alas!  nothing  but  dry  politics,  and  I 
am  willing  to  fp are  you  the  mortification  of 
them.  Indeed,  my  fweet  girl,  I:  am  penning 
a  long  epiftle ;  but  St.  PETER  knows  whether 
I  {hall  ever  find  conveyance  for  it:  however^ 
I  will  continue  to  write  on  in  difcharge  of  my 
conference,  and  fo  good  night-,  to-morrow  1 
refume  my  pen. 

To-morrow  did  I  fay  ?  three  days  have  in 
tervened  fmce  I  have  had  leifure  to  think  or 
write.  Yefterday  morning  my  fpoufe  fent  fo? 

a  horfe,  upon  which  Mr.  B and  myfelf 

went  in  a  fleigh  to  fetch  him;  but,  on  ou? 
arrival  at  SincJioick,  the  Yorkers  we  found  had 
retreated,  and  the  new  claimants  (reinforced 

by 


LETTER  3*.  i$£ 

by  five  hundred  Vermonters)  had  taken  po£- 
feffion  of  the  ground.  General  ALLEN  was- 
barred  up  in  gold-lace,  and  felt  himfelf  grand 
as  the  Great  Mogul :.  they  had  an-  old,  fpiked 
up  field-piece,  which,  however,  looked  mar 
tial.  I  fat  rnyfelf  down  among  this  formida 
ble  fet,  and  being  cold,  mildly  defired  one  of 
their  Captains  to  fetch  a  little  dry  wood.  He 
obligingly  complied,  and  we  foon  had  a  fine 
fire.  I  then  began  humbly  to  expoftulate  with 
thefe  wife  men  of  the  eaft  about  the.  commence* 
ment  of  this  civil  war ;  and  at  length  demand 
ed  how  they  could  expect  to  fupport  their  ju^ 
rifdicStion,  in  the  center  of  the.  ftates,  who  had 
not  acceded  to  their  claim  ?  They  replied, 
"  The  four  eaftern  dates  were  theirown  peo-p 
"  pie,  and  would  certainly  aflift  them.'*  I 
told  them  I  could  not  fee  how  they  dared, 
break  through  the  confederacy  while,  they 
were  fenfible  all  America's  happinefs  depend 
ed  upon  the  union.  Captain  R inter 
rupted,  "  The  affiftarice  of  New-England 
4<  would  not  interfere  with  the  union,  as  this 
**  was  a  difpute  about  land,  in  which  Congrefe 
**  had  no  concern;"  and  then  he  damned  tha 
Yorkers,  and  drank  fuccefs  to  Vermont!  which 

extraordinary 


LETTERS. 

extraordinary  fpeech  and  behaviour  impofed 
filence  on  feme  of  us. 

I  returned  home,  and  to-day  vifited  the  1VF 
camp  at   Schochticook,  where  I  took  leave  of 

Tny  dear  B ,  who  is  obliged  to  abfent 

himfelf  from  us  while  the  Vermonters  tyran 
nize. 

January  1,  1782- 

I  CONCLUDE  my  journal  after  a  long 
interval;  but,  dear  SUSAN,  fo  many  occur 
rences  have  intervened,  that  I  have  had  fcarce 
time  to  breathe  ;  our  houfe  has  been  a  perfect 
garrifon  for  feveral  weeks.  Our  men  in 
tended,  laft  Sunday,  to  ftorm  JACKSON'S 
houfe,  wh  ere 'the:  tor  ies  were  collected;  but 
they  capitulated :  however,  we  are  all  in  arms.  - 

Mr.  B- went  plenipo  to  Bennington  fome 

days  ago,  where  I-attended  him :  we  had  an 
interview  with  all  their  great  Sakemakers\ 
Ibut  the  iffue  was  no  way  favourable  to  the 
whigs,- 

We  firmly  believe  thefe  commotions  will 
be  fuppreiTed  before  fpring  ;  when  Fihall  take 
k  as  an  inftance  of  your  affeftion  if  you  can 
relifh  ourruftic  life,  and  come  up  among  us  ; 

if 


LETTERS.  15-3 

, if. not," I  fhall  fubmit  and  grieve.  Dear  fifteiy 
J.  thank  you  for  your  letter  and  prefent,  though 
I  never  received  the  latter.  CATY'S  good 
will  and  prefent  I  regard  with  affection,  and 
wifh  her  all  health  and  happinefs. 

How  mall  I  drop  my  pen !  Adieu,  dear 
girl ;  we  have  kept  your  birth-day  yeflerday, 
with  forne  agreeable  .neighbours,  and  had  a 
dance  in  the  evening.  .1  am  glad  you  are 
happy,  which  is  a  great  and  capital  fatisfac- 
tion  to  your  entirely  affectionate 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER, 


To  Mifs  S****  T**  E***. 

DEAR  SUE, 

A  Value  your  affection  beyond  any  acquifi- 
tion ;  but  my  fituation  of  late  has  been  fo  pe 
culiarly  unfortunate,  that  I  have  had  no  leifure 
to  exprefs  mine  to  you.  I  am  infinitely  pleafed 
that  you  are  happy;  but  I  wifh  fome  power, 
partial  to  me,  had  prevented  your  removal  by 
fome  very  fortunate  occurrence.  O  my  fitter ! 
my  fifter!  every  fibre  of  my  heart  relaxes 

when 


viJ-S  LETTERS, 

when  I  think  of  you :  the  heavier!  ftofm  of  life 
has  not  fallen  on  rny  foul  with  fuch  a  weight 
as  thelofs  of  your  company.  May  the  gentleft 
fpirit  in  heaven  be  the  cenfor  of  your  a&ions  ! 
May  you  be  bleft  through  the  remoteft  ages  of 
eternity !  May — but  my  heart  grows  too  full 
to  proceed. 

Let  us  change  the  fubje&.  We  have  lived 
feveral  weeks  in  -a  ftrange  commotion :  we 
have  been  often  attacked  by  the  Vermonters, 
and  defended  ourfelves  with  as  much  refolution 
as  To  many  janizaries.  Would  you  believe  it, 
I  have  been  forced  to  parade  in  the  line  of  bat 
tle  to  defend  our  caftle :  however,  the  union 
was  diflblved,  and  the  new  claimants  left  to 
ihift  for  themfelves ;  upon  which  they  were 
apprehended  by  the  Yorkers,  and  carried  to 

Albany  jail:     among    whom    were    M , 

C ,  T — and  his  two^fons,   JOHN 

p 9    \y ,   JOHN  S ,    and 

feveral  others.     The  Tame  evening  I  fent  a 

meflage  to  Mrs.  T ,  -defiling  her  to 

return  the  lookiag-glafs  fhe  took  from  us  when 
BURGOYNE  came  down,  upon  which  (he  ci- 
vily  fent  it.  Our  neighbourhood  looks  folita- 
ry  :  Mrs.  JACKSQN,  Mrs,  CURRY,  and  many 

more 


LETTERS.  152 

more  are  nil  fled  with  their  families  in  a  clan- 
Ueftine  manner.  This  elopement  of  the  tories 
gives  us  new  apprehenfions :  we  fear  they  will 
attempt  in  the  fpring  a  defcent  on  this  quarter ; 
and  though  the  fea-coaft  is  well  defended,  our 
jpoor  frontiers  are  commonly  forgotten. 

We  have  not  feen  the  lads  this  winter. 

M p was  here  yefterday  with  A 

L j  they  have  flolen  a  wedding.  L 

$ and  the  Major  have  likewife  conclud 
ed  their  long  courtfhip.  J—  H is  going 

to  die,  and  old  F —  fends  his  refpe&s  to  you. 

Mifs  T—  E— ,  you  have  all  the  news,  but 
1  muft  add  one  trifle  more:— Your  admirer 

R is  no  warrior  ;  not  all  the  eloquence  of 

our  Tork  party  could  induce  him  to  face  the 
enemy :  but  his  fituation  admits  of  fome  apo 
logy  :  deprefled  with  the  lofs  of  you,  perhaps 
he  is  become  indifferent  about  character,  pro 
perty,  &c.  &c. 

I  fhould  not  have  mentioned  this  laft  morti 
fying  article,  but  in  a  late  packet  I  received  a 

hint  as  if  Mr.  R was  fupplanted  in  your 

efteein  by  fome  R petit  maltrc.  Beware 

of  adding  to  your  murders.     But,   my  dear, 

you  have  not  entertained  me  with  the  fmalleil: 

P  account 


,5jS  -LETTERS. 

account  of  your  reception  in  New-Fork,  and  'I 
claim  the  favour  that  you  will  fill  a  page  on 
that  fubjecl:  in  your  next  letter.  I  alfo  infift, 
that  you  fhortly  make  an  excurfion  this  way, 
and  bring  our  fair  coufms  with  you  :  the  con- 
traft  between  the  gloom  of  a  deep  foreft  and 
the  brilliancy  of  a  lighted  ball-room  will  make 
you  return  to  the  latter  with  a  double  relifh. 
But  the  gloom  of  our  foreft  has  no  ill  influence 
on  our  converfation  ;  we  laugh,  and  fing,  and 
chat  in  fpite  of  winter  and  wars  ;  nor  does  any 
thing  prompt  a  momentary  figh,  but  the  lofs 
of  our  dear  SUSAN. 

Farewell,  myfifter;    you  have  long  been 
I  fenfible  that  I  am  fincerely  your 

ELIZA  BLEECKER. 


B  -------  and  the  children  long  to  fee  you. 

•  Don't  forget  to  allure  aunt  and  Mrs.  B.  of  my 
friendmip  for  them.     Major  G  -----  ,  who  will 

-deliver  this,  is  a  worthy  gentleman  ;  I  recom 
mend  him  to  your  acquaintance.  One  word 
more  and  I  rinim  :  FAN  has  a  fine  fon,  and  has 
^parted  with  TITUS  becaufe  ihe  took  a  diflike 
to  his  fooljfli  grinning.—  I  wifh  I  was  with 
.you  one  half  hour,  to  chat  and  borrow  a  pinch 

of 


LETTERS. 

of  your  perfumed  fnuff.     Adieu,  I  fear  I  fhalk 
begin  again  before  I  clofe  this. 

The  tories  are  all  warned  off.    P—  T- 

will  foon  be  married  to  ]—  P — . 

itk*  March  4,  1782. 


To  Mfs  T**  E***." 

MY  DEAR  .SISTER, 


HIS  day  (the  anniverfary  of  an  event 
fadly  important  to  me)  awakes  me  from  a  de 
ception  I  have  admitted  fince  our  feparation.- 
I  have  been.lofmg  relations,  friends,  children* 
and  acquaintances  many  years:  but  with  the 
lad  farewell  falute  you  gave  me,  in  the  bitter- 
nefs  of  grief  I  reproached  Providence  it  had 
not  .left  me  one  friend:  I  retired  hither,  with, 
my  very  little  family,  mourning,  and  could. 
not  help  repeating  the  words  of  HEZEKIAH,, 
"  I  fhall  go  foftly  all  my  days."  ----  Your 
letters,  PEGGY'S  and  MARIA'S  I  have  re 
ceived,  often  read,  and  wept  over  ;  but,  con- 
icious  that  my  gloomy  ideas  would  be  unfea^ 
P  2  fonable 


100  LETTERS. 

fonable  in  the  circle  of  pleafure,  I  omitted 
anfwe»ng  as  much  as  poflible. 

But  this  day  tells  me  I  have  yet  a  kind  com 
panion,  who  might  now  have  lain  fettered  in 
a  dungeon,  had  not  Providence  interpofed.  I 
have  an  endearing  child,  \vho  might  have  now 
lain  in  the  dark  grave,  if  the  fame  mercy  had 
not  reftored  her.  And  in  fpite  of  habit,  gra 
titude  fhall  make  me  this  day  cheerful. 

Dear  SUSAN,  you  muft  perufe  the  above 
alone :  the  genuine  fentiments  of  a  broken 
heart  appear  ridiculous  to  inexperienced  levity : 
and  though  your  fair  companions  are  fweetly 
fympathifmg,  their  very  fenflbility  induces  me 
to  conceal  from  them  the  hiftory  of  my  feel- 
jngs. 

The  news  of  this  place  is,  that  Mifs  P — - 

T is  married  to  Mr.  J—  P ;  Mr. 

S T—  obliged  to  abfccnd  for  forgery  ;  and 

Mifs  S C is  like  to  take  H- —  G 

for4better  for  worfe.  To  defcend  a  little— 
DIANA  has  loft  SHOCK,  and  is  on  the  verge 
of  marrying  with  a  certain  CUFFE;  FAN 
remains  a  widow,  and  MERKEE  is  the  moft 
conflant  lover  I  ever  knew:  but  poor  Mrs. 
p —  was  lately  delivered  of  a  child  who  is  a 

terror 


LETTERS.  l6l 

terror  to  every  one  that  fees  it.  It  feems  flie 
was  ftruck  with  fo  much  horror  at  the  fight  of 
JAMES  YATES'S  murdered  family,  *|hat  it 
made  too  fatal  an  impreflion. 

I  had  almoft  forgot  to  mention,  that  fimple 
BETT  HERMAN  is  married  to  a  Heman :  Mr. 
B.  officiated  as  prieft,  and  I  gave  the  happy 
couple  a  wedding-dinner,  to  which  we  invited 
our  molt  civilized  neighbours.  E.  and  G, 
lodge  here  alternately,  to  guard  Mr.  B.  and 
beg  their  regards  may  be.  prefented  you. 

To  return  to  myfelf — an  unimportant  and 
almoft  forgotten  fubje6t— I  have  been  em 
ployed  during  the.  winter  and  fpring  in  attend 
ing  to  my  health,  which  has  been  .confiderably. 
impaired  and  weather-beaten  by  the  florins  of 
afflictions 

For  who  to  dumb  Forgetfulnefs  st  prey, 
Tfcis  pleating;  anxious  being  e'er  refign'd  ; 
Left  the  warm  precindVs  of  the  cheerful  Hay, 
Nor  cad  one  longing,  iing'rlng  look  behind  ? 

GRAY'S  ELEGY. 

Forgive  my  relapfmg  into  melancholy:  I  will 
make  one.  more  exertion  to  be  lively,  and  if  £ 
cannot  fucceed,  will  conclude  my  paper. 

I  have  the  fineffc  garden  in  the  country.  In 
the  center  of  four  grafs  walks  we  have  creeled 


l62  LETTERS. 

a  fpacious  arbour,  clofely  fliaded  with  annual 
vines,  where  we  often  drink  tea,  and  enjoy 
the  prpfpect  of  a  lovely  collection  of  flowers 
on  one  hand,  and  a  cool  fhady  orchard  on  the 
other;  a  luxuriant  lot  of  herbage  behind,  and 
directly  oppofite  a  bluihing  vineyard  in  minia 
ture.  Here,  often,  when  perufmg  THEOCRI 
TUS,  TASSO,  and  VIRGIL,  I  drop  thofe  paf- 
toral  enthufiafts,  to  reflect  on  the  hours  of 
friendfhip  I  have  pafTed  with  my  SUSAN  :  my 
cheek  then  glows  with  delight,  pleafure  deli 
cately  touches  my  nerves,  and  all  the  fprings 
of  life  move  on  cheerily.  Ah,  SUSAN  !  I 
love  you  more  than  you  imagine.  Wherefore 
are  we  feparated?  if  for  your  advantage,  I  am 
more  than  resigned,  I  am  contented. 

,Do  you  never  hear  of  SAMMY  ?  does  he  not 
write  to  you  ?  Though  I  dwell  in  the  depth 
of  a  vaft  foreft,  that  need  not  limit  his  love : 
the  ftill  voice  of  affection  cannot  be  loft  in  the 
thunder  of  war.  What  can  be  the  reafon  he 
forgets  me?  I  muft  either  entertain  a  con 
tempt  of  my  own  demerits,  or  this but  love 

and  partiality  forbid  a  deciiion. 

After  all,  my  SUSAN,  I  wrill  endeavour  to 
circumfcribe  my  happinefs  to  the  little  lovely 

fpot 


LETTERS.  165 

fpot  I  occupy,  and  try  to  forget  the  friends 
whofe  abfence  is  fo  painful  to  me.  O  !  could 
I  think  (like  the  inhabitants  of  T'opinamboo) 
that  the  mountains  which  furround  me  were 
the  limits  of  the  earth,  and  that  the  individual 
fpot  I  dwelt  on  was  the  whole  world,  I  might 
then  truly  enjoy  the  pleafnres  it  produced. 

What  ails  the  lads  in  your  quarter  ?  They 
muft  be  very  infenfible,  or  you  three  fair 
nymphs  very  cruel,  or  Hymen  furely  would 

light  his  taper  at  R .     If  this  vein  of 

celibacy  continues,  I  would  advife  to  erecl:  a 
cloifter,  and  then  your  nominal  Lady  Abbefs 
would  have  fomething  to  do;  the  Mifs  W.'s 
would  be  large  contributors,  as  they  have  taken 
the  veil  thirty  years  ago.  But  lead  the  con 
finement  of  a  number  of  beauties  in  a  nunnery 
fhould  caufe  an  infurre6tion  in  the  beau  monde, 
we  muft  alfo  contrive  to  Ihut  up  all  the  gay, 
fighing,  ufelefs  fops  in  a  monaftery ;  and  to 

keep   up    forms    and   decencies,    Mr.   P 

H ,  a  fuperannuated  but  conftant  adorer 

of  the  widow  B.  lhail  be  appointed  Monjieur 
VAbbe. 

We  have  lived  very  quiet  this  fummer. 
Once  a  party  of  five  men,  headed  by  ROGER 

STEVENS, 


164  LETTERS, 

STEVENS,  lay  concealed  in  the  thicket  behind 
our  orchard  for  three  nights ;  but  Mr.  B.  get 
ting  intelligence  of  it,  the  neighbours  collected 
and  put  them  to  flight,  very  indifcreetly,  for 
they  might  eafily  have  furprifed  and  taken 
them.  I  went  to  fee  the  place  where  they  had 
ftationed  themfelves ;  they  had  made  a~  com 
modious  bed  of  dry  leaves,  and  had  amufed 
themfelves  with  plaiting  grafs  and  making 
true  lovers  knots.  Dear  fitter,  farewell. 

ANN  Ei>izA  BLEECKER* 
I'omhanick,  Augujl  6,  1782. 


To  Mifs  T**  E***. 

M,Y  CHAR.MING  SUSAN, 

JL  OUR  black  eyes  feem  to  have  done 
execution  already  ;  but  you,  more  cruel  than 
the  Princefs  of  the  Steel  Caftle,  who  pitied  the 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Peflle.,  have  difcarded 
your  STREPHON  without  a  figh.  But  if  you 
continue  invincible  |to  love  fifty  years  hence, 
your  blackeyes  begin  to  twinkle  through 

"  a  pair. 


LETTERS.  l6$; 

**  a  pair  of  green  fpe&acles,  with  fiiver  rims 
and  a  magreen  cafe,"  you  may  poffibly  repent- 
Dear  SUSAN,  you  will  eafily  diftinguifh 
this  raillery  from  the  undifguifed  fentiments  of. 
rny  heart :  your  letter,  made  me  feel  that  I  am 
indeed  your  fifterr  I  love  you,  my  SUSAN;, 
and  fince  your  departure  there  is  a  chafm  ill 
my  family,  at  my  table-,  at  my  fire-fide,  that 
is  not  filled  to  my  liking  by  any  other ;  but  fo 
far  I  am  happy,  that  you  are  in  a  family 
where,  with  proper  attention,  you  will  gaiiv 
every  ufeful,  every  ornamental  accoinpliili- 
ment. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  the  news  of  thefe  parts. 
NANNY  BOST WICK  died  lately  of  a  confump- 
tion.  I  went  to  fee  the  little  beauty  in  her  laft 
moments ;  her  piety,  refignation  and  fortitude 
were  very  ftriking :  {he  fmiled  difapprobatioa 
when,  to  confole  her,  I  hinted  fhe  might  re 
cover.  Mrs.  P too  lays  very  ill.  Papa, 

who  was  here  yefterday,  told  me  flie  could  not 
recover  to  all  human  appearance :  I  ihall  vifit 
her  to-morrow,  and  if  this  paper  is  not  fealed, 
will  let  you  know  her  true  fituation.— I  hear 

Doctor  BROWN  is  dead  in  Virginia ;  that  H 

is  very  much  reduced ;  and  that  W has 

mads 


l66  LETTERS; 

made  a  great  fortune  in  New-England  Bypri^ 
vateering,  and  improved  it  by  a  wealthy  mar 
riage.  Undoubtedly  he -omits  his  ufual  quef- 

tion,  "  What  do  the  ladies  fay  of  me?" 

Blefs  me,  I  could  fill  a  volume.     S C 

has  accidentally  bleft  Vermont  with  a  fatherlefs 
fon,  and  is  gone  to  Canada,  We  are  all  well, 
except  JOHNNY.  Domine  B.  -dre-fles  like  a 

very  beau.     JAMES  H- and  MAG  S 

traverfe  the  bailies  on  horfeback  ;  and  MER-- 
KEE  thanks  you- kindly  for  recollecting  him  ; 
but  F  AN, refents. your -neglect,  and  begs  me  to/ 
let  you  know  that  fhe  thinks  you  lofe  your; 
manners.  I;fuppofe  you  know  that  MOLLY 

p is  married :  yes,  I  recollecl:  I  formerly 

wrote  it  to  you.  . 

All  this  nonienfe,  my  fweet  SUSAN,  wilL 
remind  you  of  the  many  laughing,  indolent 
hours  we  have  patted,  in  the  cool  of  fummer 
evenings,  on  our  green,  where  we  chatted 
without  referve  or  impertinent  caution,  and 
as  the  full  moon  rofe  bright  in  a  cloudlefs  fky, 
when  the  fnnple  lads  and  lafTes  were  convened,. 
\^e  fported  in  the  innocency  of  child! fh  amufe- 
ments,  and  pleafed  and  fatigued  with  blind- 

man's- 


EETTETUL  167 

nian's-bufF,  and  hide-and-feek,  and  pufs-in- 
the-corner,  we  went  fweetly  to  reft. 

SUSAN,  all  this- little  chat:  is  for  your  own 
infpedfcion.  Were  you  to  {hew  this  letter  to 
fome  belle  or  fop,  you  would  be  the  lefs  efteem- 
ed  for  converting  with  fuch  a  very  ruftic,  fuch 
a  ftranger  to  the  etiquette  of  a  polite  circle. 
The  well-bred  hate  fimplicity :  there  is  a  great 
gulph  between  the  vulgar  adepts  of  nature, 
and  tho  artificial,  mechanical  fons  of  cere 
mony. 

To-day  is  my  birth-day :  I  have  made  it  a 
day  of  thankfgiving  to  my  God,  who  has  often 
brought  my  foul  out  of  trouble,  and  have 
made  it  facred  to  the  memory  of  mybeft  loved 
friends,  by  writing  them  feverally  long  letters. 
External  rejoicing  and  feffcivity  I  care  not  for: 
the  fecret  approbation  of  my  confcience  is  all 
the  praife  I  now  feek  after,  and  more,  in  my 
efleem,  to  be  valued,  than  the  acclamations 
of  an  empire. 

How  mail  I  conclude  this  incoherent  epif- 
jrle?  When  I  begin  to  talk  to  my  SUE,  (for, 
i  as  Mr.  POPE  fays,  this  is  not  writing) -I  know 
.-not  how  to  be  filent. 

Tutfday* 


l68  LETTERS, 


Tucfday. 


I T  is  three  clays  fmce  I  wrote  the  above. 
'That  evening  I  was  feized  with  a  fever ;  I  had 
a  fleeplefs,  melancholy  night ;  and  the  next 
morning  Do&or  YOUNGLOVE  bled  me;  but 
having  a  dull  lancet,  he  made  too  large  an  ori 
fice,  by  which  I  lofl  too  much  blood:  he 
could  hardly  ftop  it.  I  was  fo  weakened  that  I 
have  lain  yefterday  and  to-day  in  the  hyfterics, 
and  can  juft  fit  up  to  finim  this  for  Major  V — 

B ,  who  will  take  my  letters  with  him 

•to-morrow  to  Albany.  However,  I  have  fpirits 
•enough  to  laugh  at  my  odd  figure  before  com- 
I  pany :  I  fit  up  in  my  mort-gown,  a  cloak  over 
my  fhoulders,  no  Ihoes,  no  roll  on,  with  my 
night-cap.  I  want  a  deal  of  indulgence  when 
I  am  lick ;  and  bleffed  be  Providence,  your 
brother  is  the  tenderer!  of  nurfes-  fo  many 
namelefs  amduities,  fuch  a  winning  foftnefs 
and  complacency  in  his  manner,  as  palliate 
my  diftemper  and  prevent  my  complaints. 
Excufe.  me  ;  I  love  to  expofe  my  whole  heart 
to  my  artlefs  SUSAN. 

All  ovir  prifoners  are  arrived  from  Canada ; 
they  continually  pafs  our  door,  and  are  warmly 

habited. 


LETTERS.  169 

kabited.  Mrs.  F— 's  fifter  is  returned,  but 
the  favages  have  murdered  two  of  her  children. 
CHRISTINA  E.  begs  you  to  remember  her. 
My  STREPHON  and  my  little  ones  infift  on 
your  recollecting  them  affectionately ;  and  I 
muft  make  a  frequent  repetition  when  I  tell 
jou  that  you  are  truly  beloved  by  your  fitter, 
ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 


Mfs  M****  V**  W***. 


i 


Have  been  a  fad  girl,  my  dear  M ,  to 

fufpend  writing  to  my  fair  one  fo  long.  They 

tell  me  you  are  the  prettiefl  wit  about  R , 

fo  that  I  ought  to  be  cautious  how  I  fcribble  ; 
but  I  will  go  on  in  the  innocency  of  my  heart, 
and  if  you  criticife,  do  it  mercifully. 

We  have  had  an  agreeable  jaunt  to  New- 
England,  but  in  palling  the  mountains  of 
Tawkanok  I  think  I  never  faw  a  more  lovely 
fcene  :  we  had  afcended  the  laft  declivity; 
the  vallies  below  us,  interfperfed  with  farms, 
and  plains,  and  villages,  feemed  to  be  at  an  in 
credible  depth  ;  when  we  entered  on  a  level, 
overloaded  with  evergreens,  laurel,  and  hem- 
Q  lock, 


170  iETTER'S, 

lock,  pine  and  fpruce,  intermixed  with  red, 
blue  and  yellow  berries— imitating  the  fofteft 
bowers  of  fummer.  Thefe  greens  naturally 
(truck  out  into  long  viftas,  through  which  we 
faw  the  gildings  of  the  fetting  fun  long  after 
the  mortals  below  us  were  funk  in  darknefs. 

We  found  the  people  hofpitable  and  focial; 
were  invited  cheerfully  into  almoft  every 
genteel  houfe  we  chanced  to  pafs  ;  and  return 
ed  home,  like  JACOB'S  fons  from  Egypt >  with 
our  money,  if  not  in  our  fack's  mouth,  at 
leaft  in  our  pockets :  but  tell  SUSAN  we  left 
little  BENJAMIN  behind,  who  is  proceeding 
to  the  Nine-Partners. 

I  begin  to  find  the  winter  tedious ;  my 
circle  of  friends  here  is  too  fmall ;  that  of  my 
ruftic  acquaintance  too  large  :  when  the  heart 
is  not  interefted,  the  mind  has  little  fatisfac~t.ion 
in  company:  your  own  feelings  will  confirm 
my  obfervation.  Dear  cuz,  can't  you  contrive 
to  vifit  us?  In  vain  would  the  winds  beat, 
and  the  hail  rattle  ;  deep  fnows  might  confine 
us,  and  arctic  blafls  condenfe  the  atmofphere  ; 
ftill  our  fires  fhould  fparkle,  pleafure  and 
joy  and  plenty  attend  us— and  friend  (hip 

fhould  triumph.    Pardon,  M ,  the  tranf- 

ports 


LETTERS.  171 

ports  of  a  foul  whofe  feelings  are  too  acute: 
the  diftant  idea  of  an  interview  with  thofe 
whom  I  love  elevates  me  beyond  reafon,  and 
ten  times  a  day  I  anticipate  our  happy  meet 
ing. 

I  received  yefterday  a  long  letter  from  Mr- 

A :  he  tells  me  our  KITTY  is  increajing: 

poffibly  I  may  inclofe  a  letter  for  him  :  I  wifli 
fhe  would  write;  {he  can  (if  (he  will)  chat 
very  agreeably.  One  of  thefe  days  I  intend 
to  tire  coufm  B.  with  an  epiftle  as  long  and 
prolix  as  an  homily:  we  ufed  to  be  corref- 
pondents,  but  I  am  afraid  Ihe  grows*  too  proud 
to  recollect  her  country  friends.  A  certain 

Colonel  told  me  laft  week  that  Mrs.  F 

•ufed  to  be  a  charming  and  infinitive  compa 
nion,  but  that  now  {he  was  grown  too  fine  a 
lady  for  converfation.  I  told  him  I  never 
would  believe  that  the  tinfel  of  fortune  could 

rob  my  B of  the  ornaments  of  humanity  : 

fo  pleafe  to  inform  her  of  the  Colonel's 
malignity. 

Dear  M ,    accept  Mr.   B's.   refpecls, 

and  remember  me  kindly  to  aunt,  and  not 
lefs  kindly  to  all  the  reft  cf  my  friends  in  your 
houfe:  but,  by  cuftoin,  I  muft  write  formally 

and 


172  LfeTTERS. 

and  with  proper  diftances  what  you  have  long 
known,  that  I  am,  with  every  fentiment  of 
regard,  dear  girl,  yourmoft  affectionate 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER.. 


To  Mifs  S****  T**  E***. 


N. 


O,  I  can  admit  of  no  excufe ;  I  have 
written  three  letters  in  folio  to  my  SUSAN, 
and  have  received  no  anfwer.  After  various 
conjectures  about  the  caufe  of  fo  mortifying 
an  omiffion,  I  have  come  to  this  conclufion, 
that  you  have  commenced  a  very,  very  famion- 
able  lady — you  fee  my  penetration — and 
though  I  am  not  in  poffeffion  of  JOSEPH'S  di 
vining  cup,  I  can  minutely  defcribe  how  you 
paffed  the  day  when  my  laft  letter  was  handed 
you  ;  we  will  fuppofe  it  your  own  journal. 

Saturday  Morn,  Feb.  12. 
T'en  o'clock.   WAS  diiiurbed  in  a  very  plea- 
fant  dream  by  aunt  V.  W.  who  told  me  break  - 
faft  was  ready ;  fell  aileep  and  dreamed  again 
about  Mr.  S. 

Eleven.  Rofe  from  bed ;  DIN  AH  handed  my 
{hoes,  wafhed  the  cream  poultice  from  my 

arms, 


LETTERS. 


,3 


arms,  and  unbuckled  my  curls;  drank  two 
dimes  of  hyfon  ;  could  not  eat  any  thing. 

From  twelve  to  two.  Withdrew  to  my  clofet ; 
perufed  the  tide  page  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progrefs : 

came  in,  and,  with  an  engaging  addrefs, 

prefented  me  with  a  fmall billet  deauxfrom  Mr. 
S.  and  a  monftrons  big  packet  from  lifter  B. 
Laid  the  packet  afide  ;  mufed  over  the  charm 
ing  note  untij  three  o'clock. 

Could  not  read  fifter's  letter,  becaufe  I  mufl 
drefs,  Major  ARROGANCE,  Colonel  BOM 
BAST,  and  TOM  FUSTIAN  being  to  dine  with 
us;  could  not  fuit  my  colours — fretted — got 
the  vapours:.  DINE,  handing  me  the  falts,  let 
the  vial  fall  and  broke  it ;  it  was  diamond  cut 
eryftal,  a  prefent  from  Mr.  S,  I  flew  up  in  a 
paflion— it  was  enough  to  vex  a  faint— and 
boxed  her  ears  foundly.. 

Four.  Dreffed;  aunt  afked  me  what  fifler 
had  wrote.  I  told  her  fhe  was  well,  and  had- 
wrote  nothing  in  particular.  Mem.^-\  flily 
broke  the  feal  to  give  a  colour  to  my  afiTertion. 

Between  four  and  five.  Dined;  To  M  Fus- 
TIAN  toafled  the  brighteft  eyes  in  company-— 
I  reddened  like.  crimfon---was  furprifed  to  fee 

M biuih,  and  looking  round  faw  P 

blufh< 


174  LETTERS. 

blufh  yet  deeper  than  we.  I  wonder  who  he 
meant.  TOM  is  called  a  lad  of  judgment. 
Mr.  S.  paired  the  window  on  horfeback. 

Six.  Vifited  at  Mifs 's:  a  very  formal 

company:  uneafy  in  my  ftays— 7fcalded  my 
fingers,  and  ftained  my  changeable  by  fpilling 
a  difh  of  tea ;  the  ladies  were  exceflively  forry 
for  the  accident,  and  Mifs  V.  Z.  obferved, 
that  juft  fuch  another  mifchance  had  befallen 
the  widow  R.  three  years  before  the  war. 
Made  a  party  at  cards  until  feven  in  the  even 
ing;  loft  two  piftoles.  Afem. — had  no  ready 
cam,  bnt  gave  an  order  on . 

From  Jix  till  three  in  the  morning.  Danced 
with  Mr.  S. — thought  he  looked  jealous — to 
puniih  him  I  coquetted  with  three  or  four 
pretty  fellows,  whifpered  Colonel  TINSEL, 
who  fmiled  and  kifled  my  hand ;  in  return  I 
gave  him  a  petulant  blow  on  the  moulder. 
Mr.  >S.  looked  like  a  thunder-guft ;  then  af- 
fe&ed  to  ])e  calm  as  a  ftoic ;  but  in  fpite  of 
philofophy  turned  as  pale  as  BAN(vuo'sghoft. 

M ,--  feemed  concerned,  and  aiked  what 

ailed  him  ?  I  don't  like  M :  I  wonder 

what  charm  makes  every  body  admire  her: 
fxire,  if  Mr.  S.  was  civil  to  her,  it  was  enough ; 

he 


LETTERS,  173 

he  need  not  be  fo  very  affe&ionate.  I  flew 
in  a  pet  to  a  vacant  parlour,  and  took  out  fitter's 
letter  to  read :  I  laboured  through  ten  lines, 
contemplated  the  feal,  chewed  off  three  cor 
ners,  and  folding  the  remains  elegantly,  put 
it  in  my  pocket.  I  fuppofe  it  was  full  of 
friendfhip  and  fuch  like  country  ftuff.  How 
ever,  fitter  writes  out  of  a  good  heart  to  me, 
and  I  will  anfwer  it.  Mr.  S.  and  I  were  re 
conciled  through  the  interceffion  of  P , 

whofe  lovely  humanity  every  where  com 
mands  efteem.  We  patted  the  hours  very 
agreeably.  On  my  retiring  DINAH  attended, 
and  having  no  paper  handy,  I  gave  her  fitter's 
letter  to  put  my  hair  in  buckle,  while  I  read 
thefe  verfes,  which  Colonel  TINSEL,  with  a 
figh,  gave  me: — 

Lofly  cretur,  wen  de  fun 
Wantons  o'er  yu  wid  his  beme, 
Yu  fmile  wia  joy — my  lukes  alone 
Obnoxious  ar— - woud  I  war  him. 

I  think  the  Colonel  writes  as  well  as  HO 
MER  ;  I  believe  he  knows  as  much  ;  what  fig- 
nifies  Greek  and  Hebrew !  I  hate  your  ftarched ' 
fcholars  that  talk  Latin. 

Well  SUSAN,  you  fee  that  in  the  ar£Hc  wilds 
of  America  your  fecret  a&ions  are  brought  to 

'       light, 

* 


176  LETTERS. 

light,  fo  I  hope  you  will  pay  more  refpecT:  to 
this  epiftle. 

Mr.  B begs  me,  at  this  very  inftant, 

to  prefent  his  very  humble  regards  to  you,  and 
has  made  three  folemn  bows  to  your  ladymip 

before  I  could  write  a  fentence.     POLLY  S 

is  here,  and  making  fad  execution  among  our 
beaus.  We  live  here  a  merry  kind  of  a  laugh 
ing,  indolent  life:  we  fuffer  no  real  evils,  and 
are  far  from  regretting  the  elegant  amufe- 
ments  which  attend  a  city  life :  all  that  I. 
want,  my  fitter,  is  your  company.  This 
conflant  repetition  you  rnufl  permit  (without 
repining)  in  all  my  letters.  I  never  walk  in 
that  angle  of  my  garden  where  your  flowers 
are  planted,  but  I  heave  a  figh,  as  if  it  were 
a  painted  monument  to  your  departed  body. 
Can  you  never  come  to  us?  Were  it  not  for 
my  precarious  health,  I  might  even  adventure 

to  R ,  and  kifs  coufin  B ,  as  my  old 

dear  friend,  whom  I  tenderly  love,  though 
fhe  forgets  me :  but  I  am  often  fick  ;  and  happy 
am  I  that  my  JACK  is  fo  good  a'nurfe;  the 
tendernefs  of  his  nature  and  cheerfulnefs  of 
his  temper,  contribute  more  to  my  cure  than 
all  the  refloratives  in  the  difpenfatory. 

Tell 


LETTERS.  177 

Tell  my  fweet  coufins  I  love  them  all  ten 
derly  ;  recollect  me  with  affection  to  aunt 
y**  w***,  and  permit  my  PEG  and  HAN- 
UAH  to  falute  you. 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
Tom/2  anick,  March  29,  1783. 
This  day  fourteen  years  ago,  SUSAN,  I  was 
married,-  repent,  and  take  a  hufband. 


To  Mr.  S*****  S*******. 

JL  Congratulate  you,  my  dear  brother,  on  the 
peace  ;  in  confequence  of  which  I  fmcerely 
hope  you  may  fee  many  happy  years  :  as  for 
me,  my  bright  profpects  lie  beyond  the  grave  ; 
I  have  little  to  promife  myfelf  on  this  fide  of 
eternity.  Affliction  has  broken  myfpirit  and 
conftitution  ;  I  grow  daily  weaker  and  more 
emaciated,  and  deprefTed  with  the  reflection  of 
leaving  my  hufband  and  child  —  alas  !  the  only 
treafures  I  have  now  on  earth. 

Let  me  talk  freely  to  you  for  the  laft  time, 

,  my  brother  :—  You  know  your  poor  BETSEY 

was  born  a  folitary  orphan  :    though  enjoying 

a  genteel  fortune,  yet  friendlefs,  and  a  wan 

derer, 


LETTERS.. 

derer,  at  length  I  found  peace  in  the  company 
of  a  tender  hufband.  Ah,  how  foon  interrupt 
ed  !  my  lovely  babes  died  away  like  fummer 
bloffoms  before  the  froft :  ftill  I  had  a  kind 
mother  to  complain  to  ;  we  wept  together :  but 
foon  the  enemy  rulhing  upon  us  like  a  hurri 
cane,  we  were  fcattered  like  a  flock  of  frighted 
birds :  our  dear  mother  fled  to  Red-Hook  with 
SUSAN  ;  I  ft  aid  awhile  at  the  farm  ;  but  a  fuel- 
den  incurfion  of  fome  favages  haftened  my  re 
treat ;  I  took  my  beautiful  ABELLA  on  my 
arm,  and  PEGGY  by  the  hand,  and  wandered 
folitary  through  the  dark  woods,  expecting 
every  moment  to  meet  the  bloody  ally  of  Bri 
tain  :  however,  we  arrived  fafe  at  Arabia, where 
I  met  my  hufband,  who  had  been  to  Albany ;  he 
procured  a  chaife,  and  took  us  to  the  city  ;  the- 
alarm  increafing,  we  got  a  paffage  in  a  floop 
with  fitter  SWITS  and  family;,  twelve  miles 
below  Albany  my  ABELLA  died  of  a  dyfentery ; 
we  went  afhore,  had  one  of  my  mahogany 
dining-tables  cut  up  to  make  her  coffin,  and 
buried  the  little  angel  on  the  bank.  I  was 
feized  with  the  diftemper ;  and  when  we  came 
to  Red-Hook,  found  my  dear  mamma  wafted  to 
a  fhadow :  fhe  mourned  over  the  ruins  of  her 

family, 


LETTERS. 

family,  and  carried  me  to  uncle  H 's,  who 

received  us  very  reluctantly.  Soon  after  my 
dear  mother  died,  and  I  returned  to  Alb  any , 
where,  in  a  few  days,  I  faw  poor  fitter  CATY* 
expire.  We  retired  again  to  (Tomhanick<)  where 
we  lived  fometime  bleft  in  domeftic  tranquilli 
ty,  though  under  perpetual  alarms  from  the 
favages :  at  length,  one  afternoon,  a  fmall  party 
from  Canada,  who  had  unperceivedly  pene 
trated  the  country,  carried  off  Mr.  BLEECKER 
with  his  two  fervants.  This  fhock  I  could 
not  fupport.  My  little  PEGGY  and  I  went  to 
Albany,  where  we  wept  inceffantly  for  five 
days,  when  God  was  pleafed  to  reftore  him  to 
our  arms.  Soon  after  I  fell  into  premature 
labour,  and  was  delivered  of  a  dead  child. 
Since  that  I  have  been  declining ;  and  though 
we  often  fled  from  the  enemy  fmce,  been 
cruelly  plundered,  and  often  fuffered  for  very 
necefTaries,  yet  your  filence,  my  brother,  hurts 
me  more  than  thefe. 

'  Mr.  BLEECKE.R  talks  of  taking  me  to  New- 
York  this  fpring,  but  I  believe  I  mail  never 
reach  it ;  my  health  is  fo  precarious  that  I  dare 
not,  even  here,  venture  an  afternoon's  vifit.  I 

could 

*  Mrs.  SWITS. 


180  -LETTERS, 

could  wifh  to  fee  you  before  I  died ;  but  I  am 
ufed  to  difappointments.  I  have  given  you  my 
little  hiftory  that  you  may  fee  I  die  of  a  broken 
heart.  Farewell,  my  only  brother  ;  may  God 
preferve  your  family,  and  continue  all  your 
bleflings.  When  you  fee  my  poor  little  PEGGY, 
and  my  poor  little  HANNAH  SWITS,  think  of 
your  friends  who  have  periflied  before  you,  and 
love  and  pity  them  for  their  fakes.  Give  my 
kindeft  love  to  BETSEY,  and  accept  of  your 
brother's.  I  am,  dear  SAMMY,  your  very  af 
fectionate  fifter, 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
T'omhanlck ,  May  8 ,  1783. 


"To  Mifs  S****  T**  E***« 

MY  DEAR  SUSAN, 

INDISPOSITION  has  of  late  To  difpirited 
me  that  I  have  omitted  to  write  to  any  of  my 
friends ;  but  within  thefe  few  days  I  am  fen- 
fibly  better,  and  feel  this  evening  in  a  chatty 
humour.  Let  me  fir  ft  of  all  give  you  the 

news— LYDIA    S is    married   to   Mr. 

JOHN 


LETTERS.  iSl 

B-— ,   and  Mifs  POLLY  S —  to 

Lieutenant  G (fon  of  ENNIS  G the 

taylor;)  moreover,  NATJE  L (your  old 

enemy)  is  likewife  become  foraebody's  ef- 
poufed  wife.  Lord  STERLING  died  laft  night, 
and  (I  am  quite  a  gazette)  beauT —  is  gone  to 
Canada.  The  lads  lodge  with  us,  and  we  have 
endeavoured  to  pafs  the  winter  as  gleefully 

as  plenty  and  fimplicity  can  make  us — E 

kifles  your  hands;  JAMES  is  a  profefs'd  Have 
to  PEGGY  S ;  and  POLLY  will  join  us  to 
morrow,  when  Mr.  B.  and  his  fpoufe  intend 
to  leave  the  merry  circle  at  Tomhanick,  and 
take  a  ramble  to  .New-England.  I  have  beea 

informed  that  Mrs.  A has  bled  the  Doctor 

with  a  fon  and  daughter;  if  fo,  I  give  you 
joy.  Did  you  ever  fee  fo  incoherent  an 
epiftle?  however,  you  muft  confefs,  did  I 
reduce  fo  much  news  to  order,  and  tell  every 
thing  elegantly,  it  would  fwell  my  paper  be 
yond  the  common  limit;  befides,  I  do  not 
mean  to  fet  up  for  "  the  complete  letter- wri 
ter."  My  PEG  is  quite  disappointed  -at  your 
filence,  and  regrets  that  me  ever  fent  her 

fcrawl  to  R :  and  indeed,  SUSAN,  (now 

I  think  on  it)  you  have  correfponcled  with  me 
R  rather 


-1 82  LETTERS. 

rather  like  a  formal  acquaintance  than  a  warm 
friend;  with  every  poft  you  might  have  fent 
me  fome  fcribble ;  fometimes  a  half  a  quire, 
fometimes  a  half  a  line  ;  the  dawnings  of 
friend  (hip,  emotions  of  humanity,  fentiments 
of  piety,  or  impreffions  of  love,  ought  to  have 
been  candidly  confided  in  the  bofom  of  your 
own  ELIZA  :  they  would  have  brightened  my 
moments  of  Tolitude,  and  have  made  me  for 
get  my  oblivious  fituation.  SAMMY  too  has 
helped  to  embitter  my  cup  of  life  ;  he  has  con 
tracted  his  affection  within  the  orb  of  his  lit 
tle  family,  and  cannot  moot  out  a  ray  of  love 
at  this  diflance,  to  enlighten  and  blefs  a  for 
lorn  filter:  I  love  him  fmcerely;  may  he  and 
his  be  forever  happy.  My  fifler,  I  fhall  grow 
too  dull  if  I  proceed;  I  had  better  conclude; 
but  I  am  fond  of  talking  to  you.  Let  me 

.drop  into  news  again— POLLY  P (Mrs. 

L.)  has  a  fine  fon  ;  and  I  had  like  to  have  for 
got  to  mention  that  Vermont  intends  again  to 
renew  the  eaft  and  weftern  claims.  Upon  a 
late  refolve  of  Congrefs,  (handed  particularly 
to  them)  they  have  aflumed  an  infulting  arro 
gance  of  behaviour,  threaten  Congrefs,  and 

imprecate 


LETTERS.  1 

imprecate  New-York.     In  fhort,  I  fancy  we 
iliall  have  all  our  perfecutions  to  go  over  again'. 

But  what  have  your  black  eyes  been  doing 
all  this  while?  have  you  captured  no  heart 
worth  retaining  ?  I  am  afraid  the  gentlemen 
are  fo  feverely  attracted  by  the  charms  of  three 
fair  ones,  that  (like  Mahomet's  fhrine)  they 
cannot  attach  themfelves  to  either.  Pray  be 
feen  feparate. 

We  have  here  a  ruftic  beauty  come  into  our 
foreft,  that  would  be  much  admired  (I  mean 
for  perfon,  not  manners)  by  all  the  beaus  of 

J£ ;    the  fymmetry  of  her  form*  glitter 

of  her  eyes,  and  lefTemng  {hades  of  vermi- 
lion  on  her  cheek,  which  lofe  themfelves  im 
perceptibly  in  a  complexion  of  the  moft  deli 
cate  whitenefs ;  thefe,  when  improved  in 
the  beau  monde  by  artificial  graces,  would  make 
her  an  irreiiftible  toad ;  fhe  has  the  romantic 
name  of  MEL  A  Bf  ESS  A  ;  but  being  of  a  tender 
conilitution,  not  able  to  work,  has  no  declar 
ed  admirer. 

Full  many  a  gem  of  pureft  ray  ferene, 
The  dark  unfathom'd  caves  of  ocean  bear  j 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blufli  unfeen, 
And  waftc  its  fweetnefs  on  the  defert  air. 

GRAY. 

R  2  Dear 


184  LETTERS. 

Dear  girl,  you  are  tired  wirh  my  imperti 
nence,  but  I  hade  to  relieve  you.  Your  bro 
ther  begs  you  to  remember  him  with  tender- 
nefs ;  the  children  love  you ;  even  FAN  and 
MARKEE  folicit  your  remembrance  of  them  ; 
and  O,  my  fifter !  might  you  but  really  feel 
how  much  I  am  your  affectionate 

ANN  ELIZA  BLEECKER. 
Tomkamck,  Dec.  10,  1783. 


POETICS. 


POETICS. 

JOSEPH. 


ITH  many  children  was  the  Patriarch 

bleft,.       * 

Yet  Jofeph  he  preferr'd  before  the  reft  : 
To  tend  his  flock  was  all  the  youth's  employ ; 
To  ferve  his  God  and  Sire  his  only  joy : 
Jacob  of  his  lov'd  confort  now  depriv'd, 
Beheld  her  graces  in  the  fon  reviv'd; 
And  all  the  love  he  had  fo  Rachel  gone, 
Was  by  degrees  transferr'd  unto  her  fon. 
A  filken  veft,  that  caft  a  various  {hade, 
He  fondly  to  the  boy  a  prefent  made : 
Here  vivid  fcarlet  ftrove  with  lively  green,   ~| 
The  purple,blended  with  the  white, was  feen,  > 
And  azure  fpots- were  interfpers'd  between,  J 

This  gaudy  robe  (the  bafis  of  his  woe, 
The  fource  from  which  his  future  forrows  flow) 
Kindled,  his, elder  brethren's  wakeful  pride  : 
(When  envy  mounts,  affe&ion  will  fubiide) 
Their  dawning  hate  in  vain  to  hide  they  il  rove, 
Each  look  too  plain  confefs'd  expiring  lave. 
R  3  The 


186  POETICS. 

The  fun  obliquely  {hot  his  humid  beams, 
When  Jofeph  wak'd,  one  morn,  and  told  his 

dreams  : 

"*  My  brethren,  we,  methought,  were  on  a  plain, 
6  And  binding  into  {heaves  the  yellow  grain ; 
6  When  mine  arofe  ;your'sform'd  a  circle  round, 

*  And  reverently  bow'd  low  to  the  ground.' 
At  this  each  face  the  innate  rage  exprefs'di 
And  Jofeph  thus,  indignant,  they  addrefs'd. 
'  Shalt  thou  indeed  a  fov'reign  to  us  be  ? 

*  And  fhall  we  fall  as  fuppliants  on  the  knee? 

*  Vain  boy  !  renounce  thofe  hopes — hence  to 

the  field 
c  A  fhepherd's  crook,  not  fceptre,  {halt  thou 

wield.' 

Again,  when  {lumbers  Hole  upon  his  eyes, 
And  active  Fancy  bade  the  vifion  rife, 
To  him  th'  eleven  ftars,  the  orb  of  day, 
And  cryilal  moon  refpeclful  homage  pay. 
This  on  the  morn  the  wond'ring  youth  difclos'd 
When  Jacob  the  prediction  thus  oppos'd: 

*  Shall  I,  thine  aged  fire,  whofe  filver  hairs 
c  And  arms  unnerv'd  proclaim  my  length  of 

years, 

*  Proftrate  on  earth  myfelf  thy  vaflel  own  ? 

*  And  {hall  thy  mother  bow  before  her  fon? 

*  Ambition, 


POETICS.  187 

«  Ambition,  Jofeph,  has  thy  heart  pofTefs'd, 

*  And  dreams  illufive  rife  from  fuch  a  gueft.* 
But  yet  he  wonder'd  what  might  be  defign'd, 
And  the  prefaging  vifions  treafur'd  in  his  mind. 

It  chanc'd  his  elder  fons  at  early  dawn 
Led  their  fair  flocks  to  Dothen\  verdant  lawn : 
There,  while  the  kids  and  lambs  crop  off  the 

flow'rs, 

In  clofe  converfe  they  pafs  th*  eloping  hours: 
Beneath  a  cedar's  boughs,  whofe  awful  made 
Extended  o'er  the  plain,  was  Lcvl  laid : 
What  rais'd  the  tears  that  trembled  in  his  eyes  ? 
Iffacher  afk'd;  and  Levi  thus  replies: 

'  Jacob  was  once  impartial  in  his  love  ; 

*  To  pleafe  us  all,  and  we  to  pleafe  him  ftrove* 

*  Have  we  not  toil'd  beneath  the  burning  ray 

*  Of  yon  bright  orb,  who  rifmg  we'furvey  ; 

*  And  when  the  lamp  of  night  illumes  the  ikies, 

*  When  dews  defcend  and  noxious  mifts  arife, 
6  In  filent  vales  a  careful  watch  we  keep, 

'  And  from  the  rav'ning  wolves  protect  the 

fheep? 

<  Is  this  the  kind  return  for  all  our  care? — 
'  We  afk  but  equally  his  love  to  ihare  ; 

*  And  that  denied,  to  aggravate  the  fmart, 
'  A  fcmpering  boy  engrofles  all  his  heart : 

<  What 


i88  POETICS. 

6  What  can  entitle  him  to  fuch  a  claim, 

*  Domeftic  labours,  or  a  martial  fame  ? 

'  InM'amre^  groves  his  hours  flide  foft  away, 

*  In  reft  at  night,  in  indolence  all  day : 

*  With  lies  of  us  he  fills  the  credulous  ear, 

*  Too  horrid  to  repeat,  or  you  to  hear. 

*  For  this  a  fuperb  robe  adorns  his  limbs, 

*  And  partial  heav'n  for  this  inmyftic  dreams 
4  -Prefages  a  reward* .    But  words  are  vain,' 
Here  L-evi  ceas'd,  and  Iffachcr  began. 

*  Ah  1  'tis  too  plain,  too  obvious  to  the  fight, 
4  That  y0/£/>//  is  our  parent's  chief  deli 

*  Although  a  bafe  ufurper  of  our  right 
6  You  fee  ambition  rifmg  in  his  foul; 

*•  And  when  his  years  mature  to  manhood  rollj 

*  Elated  with  the  hopes  of  fway,  he'll  try 
4  On  us,  my  friends,  his  dreams  to  verify.' 

He  ended :  but  his.cheeks  with  anger  glows ; 
When  bloody  Simeon  from  the  ground  arofe. 
Awhile  he  .paus'd ;  at  length  his  lips  impart 
The  black  defign  corroding  at  his  heart.  . 

6  Brethren,  this  war  of  words  and  co  ward  rage 
'  Suits  not  our  youth,  but  meets  impotent  age  j 

*  Let  one  decifive  flroke  remove  our  fears, 

1  OMlruft  the  .fates,  and  calm  inteftiae  wars.' 

Rtukett 


is  to  the  fight  jl 
lief  delight,  > 
ir  right:  J. 


POETICS.  iSg 

Reuben  at  Simeon  glanc'd  a  frown,  and  fpoke : 

*  The  fentence  yet  in  embrio  I  revoke : 

*•  The  SechemittS)  (who,  murder'd  on  the  plain, 

*  Sad  monuments  of  cruelty  remain) 

'  Have  they  to  death  inur'd  your  gloomy  eyes., 

*  That  for  a  childifh  dream  your  brother  dies  ? 

*  Would  you  in  guiltlefs  blood  your  jav'lias 

(lain, 
<  And'  Nature's  law  by  fuch  a  deed  profane  ? 

*  My  foul  {brinks  at  the  thought :  loud  found 

ing  fame 

*  Would  through  the  world  the  fratricide  pro 

claim. 

'  Brethren,  regard  his  youth — ourfather's  age ; 
,  One  fatal  ftroke  deflroys  both  child  and  fage : 

*  Congenial  fouls :  the  union  of  the  heart 

'  Death  can't  divide,  nor  living  can  we  part. 
'  Ah  !  tell  me,  Simeon,  is  the  a6lion  brave 
'  To  fink  a  fage  and  infant  in  the  grave  ? 
'  Miftaken  valor,  and  inhuman  deed, 
'  For  one  man's  fault  to  make  a  nation  bleed  \ 

*  Much  more  inhuman  this :  the  fon  confpires 

*  A  harmlefs  brother's  death,  and  aged  fire's. 

*  Think  not  with  their  laft  breath  your  fears 

are  fled; 

'  God's  vengeance  ftill  purfues  the  guilty  head, 

And 


rgo  POETICS. 

*  And  why  abridge  his  days  ?    Ah !  brethren, 

know, 

*  By  {hort'ning  his,  you  fill  your  own  with 

woe.* 

He  ended  unapplauded,  and  beheld 
The  obje£t  of  their  conteft  on  the  field, 
Far  as  the  eye  could  reach :  his  glofly  hair 
Curl'd  on  his  neck  ;  his  robe  wav'd  light  in  air, 
Clafp'd  by  a  plate  of  gold,  that  as  he  run 
In  brightnefs  feem'd  to  emulate  the  fun. 

Hate,  fH fled  by  reproof,  flam'd  in  each  eye, 
When  at  a  diftance  they  perceiv'd  the  boy ; 
In  ev'ry  look  black  difcontent  was  fpread, 
And  Judah,  pale  with  envy,   rofe  and  laid : 

*  Vain  fophiftry  !   how  do  our  joys  fubiide, 
*•  While  that  prophetic  dreamer  fwells  with 
pride  ? 

*  No ;  let  him  die :  his  veft  we'll  ftain  with 

blood,  t 

'  And  tell  his  fire  we  found  it  in  the  wood : 
'  Some  beaft,  I'll  cry,  and  deep  affliaion  feign, 
'  Oh  Jacob >  has  thy  fon,  thy  Jofeph  {lain  ! 
'  If  Reuben  new  objections  here  create, 

*  Then  let  him  bear  our  juft,  immortal  hate.* 

When  Reuben  found  his  death  was  now  de 
creed, 

Refolv'd  to  fave  the  youth,  or  with  him  bleed? 

He 


POETICS.  193 

;He  loud  exclaim'd — *  At  leaf*  with  this  com- 

pty» 

e  (Since  by  our  hand- the  innocent  muft  die) 
'  I  am  his  brother,  give  me  not  the  pain 
'  To  fee  his  blood  gufh  from  the  purple  vein, 
(  To  fee  his  foul  part  from  his  quiv'ring  lip, 
c  And  hear  the  groan  which  ufhers  in  his  fleep. 

*  Where  yonder  cedars  raife  their  lofty  heads, 

*  And  round  the  rocky  place  a  horror  fpreads, 
•'  There  is  a  pit,  to  water  long  unknown, 

£  Dark  its  accefs,  with  brambles  overgrown: 

*  Here  be  the  child  immur'd :  the  fides  are  fleep, 
'  Of  flone  cemented,  and  profoundly  deep  ; 

*  A  certain  and  concealed  death  his  fate; 

*  Guiltlefs  of  blood  we  gratify  our  hate.' 
He  hefitated— by  real  forrow  mov'd, 
While  his  propofal  all  the  fvvains  approv'd. 

But  Reuben  hop'd,   when  fleep  had  clos'd 

their  eyes, 

'With  the  lov'd  youth  his  father  to  furprife; 
Then  lead  him  where  he  might  fecurely  wait 
'The  period  when  he  Ihould  furvive  their  hate. 

Jofeph,  foon  as  his  brethren  he  defcries, 
A  placid  fweetnefs  triumph'd  in  his  eyes, 
Joy  ting'd  his  blooming  cheeks  with  deeper  red, 
He  innocently  fmil'd,  advanced,  and  faid: 


IQ2  POETICS. 

«  To  Section's  vale  our  fire  bade  me  repair) 

*  If  you  were  well,  felicitous  to  hear: 

'  I  rov'do'er  meads  enamel'd  with  gay  flow'rs, 
•*  I  rang'-d  the  forefts  and  explor'd  the  bow'rs  \ 
«  At. length  my  erring  fteps  a  ftranger  led 

*  To  Dot  hen,  where  he  fa  id  your  nocks  were  fed. 
6  But  why  this  gen'ral  gloom  on  ev'ry  face,  • 

4  This  ftupid  grief  which  faddens  -all  the  place  ? 
«  O  tell  me  !  quick  difpel  each  rifmg  fear, 

*  Or  let  me  drop  the  fympathetic  tear.' — 
He  pleads,  impatient  for  the  truth  to  gain ; 
But  dazzling  virtue  aw'd  the  filent  train. 
The  confcious  hlood  revolting  from  each  cheek, 
Rufti  to  the  guilty  heart  and  refuge  feek: 
Now  vice  prepares  the  formidable  blow, 
Yet  fhrinks,  encountering  a  defencelefs  foe: 
She  fummons  all  her  forces  to  her  aid, 

And  big  with  death,  now  hovers  o'er  his  head. 

Rapid  as  lightnings  thro'  the  aether  glance, 
So  fwift  they  to  th'  aftonifh'd  youth  advance  ; 
Trembling  with  rage  they  flew  ;  they  feiz'd 

hi»s  hair, 
And  bade  him  inftantly  for  death  prepare. 

Aghaft  he  gaz'd ;   he  fliffen'd  with  furprife, 
His  blood  congeals,  he  fcarce  believes  his  eyes ; 
A  fudclen  horror  thrills  thro'  ev'ry  vein, 
He  cafts  an  anxious  look  back  o'er  the  plain ; 

He 


POETICS.  10.3 

He  fees  no  hope  ;  then  finking  on  his  knees, 
He  thus  eflay'd  their  anger  to  appeafe  : 

*  What  have  I  done,  my  brethren,  that  your 
rage 

*  United  fhould  againft  a  child  engage  ? 

'  Alas !  what  heavy  crime  demands  my  death  ?' 
Here  rifmg  tears  fupprefs'd  his  laboring  breath ; 
Thefe  when  difcharg'd,  again  the  lliepherd 

pleads: — 

4  Is  there  no  friend,  not  one  who  intercedes? 
4  With  guiltlefs  blood  pollute  notNature's  laws. 
6  Tell  me  my  fault,  and  let  me  plead  my  caufe : 

*  If  innocent,  acquit;  if  guilty  found, 

*  In  public  then  let  juftice  give  the  wound.' 

He  ceas'd  to  fpeak,  and  their  deciilon  wait ; 
When  Nepthali  exclaimM,  *  Our  will  is  fate.' 
Then  with  a  cord  his  trembling  hands  they 

bound, 
And  rais'd  him  pale  and  fainting  from  the 

ground : 

His  terror  power  of  utterance  denies, 
But  yet  he  weeps  and  lifts  his  fpeaking  eyes. 
They  lead  him  to  the  grove,  whofe  folemn  {hade 
The  wind  and  folar  ray  could  fcarce  pervade  ; 
The  dark  abyfs  they  found,  and  op'd  a  way 
By  which  defcending -Jofefh  left  the  day : 

S  The 


194  POETICS. 

The  hollow  fides  re-echo  back  his  moan, 
And  diftant  rocks  reflect  the  doubled  groan; 
In  deeper  notes  his  plaintive  cries  return'd, 
While  low  excluded  from  the  light  he  mourn'd. 
Th'  inhuman  ruftics  foon  depart  the  place 
Where  confcious  Vice  now  flufh'd  each  guilty 

face: 

The  fun  fhonehot;  impervious  to  his  ray 
A  grove  of  palms  the  fainting  fwains  furvey: 
Beneath  their  made  a  filver  current  ftole, 
Whofe  lucid  waves  o'er  moffy  carpets  roll. 
Here  they  repair,  and  featedron  the  ground, 
With  rofeate  wine  the  fhining  goblet  crown'd  ; 
The  viands  on  the  velvet  grafs  they  fpread,   ") 
The  grape   luxuriant  and  the  milk-white  I 
bread ;  v. 

When  thoughtful  Reuben,  fighing,  rofe  and  j 
faid:  j 

6  While  you  the  feflive  banquet  here  prepare, 
'  To  feek  the  (haying  lambs  fhall  be  my  care.* 
Scarce  was  he  gone,  when  from  a  neigh 
bouring  vale 

The  fragrant. fmells  of  fpicery  exhale; 
The  aromatic  loads  by  camels  borne, 
From  Geliad  fent,  to  Egypt  now  return : 
Thefe  were  proceeded  by  a  numerous  train 
Of  trafficers,  wrho  from  fair  Mldlan  came. 

Th'  in- 


POETICS.  195 

Til'  inviting  ihade,  where  cool  the  ihephcr-'s 

lay, 

Allur'd  the  merchants  from  their  tirefome  way ; 
They  join  the  fwains,  and  prefs  the  verdant 

ground, 
While  the  repleniih'd  goblet  paffes  round. 

But  pale  remorfe,  from  cool  reflection  fprung, 
On  half-repenting  JudaJfs  brow  was  hung ; 
His  brother's  groans  reverb'rate  on  his  ear, 
But  yet  his  envy  jfqfipjk'p  merits  fear. 
While  thefe  contending  paffions  rend  his  breail 
Apart  the  lifl'ning  ihepherds  he  addrefs'd: 
'  My  friends,  the  elded- curfe  of  righteous 

heaven 
'  Was  to  the  murderer  of  a  brother  given  ; 

*  Tho'  Jofeph's  crimes  would  juftify  his  death, 
4  We  can  be  juft,  and  yet  prolong  his  breath. 

*  Let  us  redeem  the  victim  from  the  grave, 

*  And  fend  him  to  Egyptia  as  a  Have ; 

'  From  thofe  far  plains  he  never  can  return, 
'  But  mutt  repent  his  faults,  fubmit  and  mourn : 

*  No  black  reflection  then  will  give  us  pain, 

'  And  ufeful  gold,  my  brethren,  too  we  gain.' 

The  mercenary  ihepherds  all  agree, 
And  fet  him  from  his  gloomy  prifon  free: 

82  He 


ars;  ^ 
ars,  > 
is.  J 


196  POETICS. 

Hefmiteshisbreaft,  wet  with  inceffant  tears  ; 
His  languid  eyes  to  heav'n  he  pleading  rears, 
Whofe  filent  eloquence  reveal'd  his  fear 
But  when  he  faw  the  Grangers  in  the  {hade, 
Diffqfive  hope  thro'  all  his  features  fpread  ; 
He  wip'd  away  the  pendant  tears,  and  fmil'd, 
W*hen  by  the  hand  proud  AjJiur  took  the  child  ; 
His  fordid  foul  from  all  foft  ties  eftrang'd, 
yoftpft,  without  remorfe,  for  gold  exchang'd: 
The  youth's  fimplicity  and'  early  bloom, 
Each  Granger  with  attractive  force  o'ercome: 
They  paid  the  mining  ore,  and  journey'd  on, 
For  in  the  weft  funk  the  declining  fun. 

Meanwhile,    o'er  diftant  hills,  and   mofs- 

grown  rocks, 

The  peniive  fwain  purfues  the  timid  flocks. 
Now  late  returning,  and  o'ercome  with  heat, 
Secures  his  charge  and  feeks  a  cool  retreat ; 
Beneath  a  cedar's  length'ned  fhadow  laid, 
The  vaft  expan.fe,  admiring,  he  furvey'd, 
la  vivid  tints,  by  letting  fol  array'd 
Magnificently  gay.    Here  ftreak'd  with  gold, 
The  purple  clouds  their  borrow'd  paints  unfold ; 
The  blufhing  weft  with  deep  carnation  glows, 
And  o'er  the  fkies  a  bright  reflection  throws. 
—Now  imperceptibly  on  clofmg  flow'rs 
The  filent  dews  defcend  in  filver  fhow'rs, 

ThJ  ap- 


POETICS.  197 

Th'  appearing  flars  exert  a  feeble  light, 
And  Reuben  welcomes  the  approach  of  night: 
He  rifes  and  explores  the  difmal  fliade, 
And  {looping  o'er  the  cavern's  verge  he  faid: 
'  Jofeph-1  my  brother  Jofeph  !  I  am  come, 
'  Impatient  to  reverfe  thy  cruel  doom  ; 

*  Forgive  thy  Reuben's  part  in  this  black  deed, 

*  'Tis  ftratagem  alone  thy  life  has  freed: 

«  Oh  Jofeph  fpeak !   furely  thou  doft  furvive : 
'  Oh  fpeak  my  brother,  if  thou  art  alive ! 

*  Alas  !   no  voice  but  echo's  hollow  found, 

1  No  voice   but   mine   remurmers   o'er   the 

ground ! 
«  Where  fhall  I  flee,  to  what  dark  diftant  ihore, 

*  To  mun  reproach?  for  Jofeph  is  no  more. 

*  Why  did  my  lips  (confenting  to  his  death) 

«  When  they  pronounced  his  doom,  not  lofe 

their  breath?'— 

Again  he  calls,  and  raging  in  defpair, 
From  his  fwoln  breaft  the  folding  garment  tears. 
Now  wild  with  grief,  and  wand'ring  thro'  the 

gloom, 

He  met  the  Hebrews  all  returning  home: 
A  kid  they'd  kiil'd,  and  in  the  fanguine  gore 
Haddipt  the  robe  which  blamelefs^o/^  wore. 
Soon  they  appeared  on  Mamre\  peaceful  plain, 
And  enter'd  Ifrael\  tent,  a  guilty  train ; 

S  3  Each 


198  POETICS. 

Each  feign'd  to  be  with  anxious  care  opprefl, ~) 
And  Simeon,  weeping,  thus  his  fire  addreft :  > 
'  Oh  canft  thou  recollecl:  this  bloody  vefl  1*  J 

Old  Jacob  viewed  it  with  a  paufing  eye ; 
He  trembled,  groaned,  and  fcarce  could  make 

reply ; 

An  univerfal  horror  feiz'd  his  frame, 
At  length  burft  forth  th'  ungovernable  flame 
*•  It  is  my  fon's  !  (he  cry'd)  my  fon 
'*  Curft  be  the  hour  that  rent  him  from  my  fide  ! 

*  What  baneful  planet  did  my  actions  guide  ? 

«  Come,  death,  convey  me  to  the  peaceful  urn  ; 

*  J°fcph  *s  ^eacl '  wny  Should  I  live  to  mourn  ?' 

In  vain  they  try  to  calm  his  fwelling  grief; 
He  cherifh'd  forrow,  andrefus'd  relief. 


•} 

>le flame:  > 
is  (lain !  J 


On  Mrs.  JOHANNA  LUPTON- 

JtjL  ER  foul,  unfetter  rd  from  the  bands  of  clay, 
With  fwift-wing'd  hafte  to  heaven  takes  its 

way; 

She  tow'rs  the  aerfel  fpace  orr  wings  divine, 
While  weeping  friends  furround  tlie  bloodied 

The 


POETICS. 

The  foftenM  heart  there  breathes  a  tender  figh,. 
And  grief  fits  penfive  in  each  moiften'd  eye : 
Supprefs  the  rifing  tear,  and  with  her  fmg, 

*  Death,  where's  thy  vicVry  ?  Grave,  where 

is  thy  fting  ?•* 

Sing  how  with  God  fhe  refts  in  endlefs  day, 
All  tears  of  forrow  ever  wip'd  away  ; 

*  Sing  how  by  tortures  heav'n  her  faith- has 

try'd; 
1  The  faint  endurM  it,  tho'  the  woman  dy'd  P 

Ah,  nature  will  prevail !   'tis  all  in  vain  : 
Say,  facred  mufe,  what  lois  do  we  fuftain? 
She  wip'd  the  eye  of  grief — it  ceasrd  to  flow ; 
Her  pitying  heart  ftill  felt  another's  woe ; 
Indigent  virtue  fhar'd  her  earthly  (lore  ; 
She  call'd  herfelf  God's  fleward  for  the  poon : 
A  duteous  child ;  a  faithful,  loving  wife  ; 
Serene  in  death,  as  tranquil  was  her  life  ; 
A  pious  mother — mother  now  no  more ; 
Her  foft  folicitude  and  cares  are  o'er : 
Sifter  and  friend,  each  tender  name  in  one; 
And  is  fhe  gone  ?    but  heav'n's  great  will  be 

done ! 

Like  Noah's  dove,  the  wand'rer  found"  no  refF, 
Till  in  his.  ark  her  Saviour  took  the  gueft. 
Oh  may  we  meet  her  on  the  eternal  fhore, 
Where  death  ihail  never  feparate  us  more  I 


2OO  POETICS. 


To  Mr.  L*****. 

A  HE  fun  that  gilds  the  weftern  fky 

And  makes  the  orient  red, 
Whofe  gladfome  rays  delight  the  eye 
And  cheer  the  lonely  {hade  ; 

Withdraws  his  vegetative  heat, 

To  fouthern  climes  retires  ; 
While  abfent,  we  fupply  his  feat 

With  grofs,  material  fires. 

'Tis  new-year's  morn;  each  ruftic  fwam 

Ambroiial  cordials  take ; 
And  round  the  fire  the  feftive  train 

A  femi-circle  make: 

While  clouds  afcend,  of  fable  fin  oak, 

From  pipes  of  ebon  hue, 
With  inhannonick  fong  and  joke 

They  pafs  the  morning  through. 

You  tell  me  this  is  folitude, 

This  contemplation's  feat ; 
Ah  no  !  the  moft  impervious  wood 

Affords  me  no  retreat. 

But 


POETICS.  20T 

But  let  me  recollect :  'tis  faid^ 

When  Orpheus  tun'd  his  lyre 
The  Fauns  and  Satyrs  left  the  fhade, 

Warm'd  by  celeftial  fire. 

His  vocal  lays  and  lyra  made. 

Inanimated  marble  weep  ; 
Swift-footed  Time  then  paus'd,  'tis  faid, 

And  fea-born  monfters  left  the  deep : 

Impatient  trees,  to  hear  his  ftrain 
Rent  from  the  ground  their  roots:--- 

Such  is  my  fate,  as  his  was  then, 
Surrounded  here — by  brutes. 


the  f 


ame" 


A-/  EAR  Sir,  when  late  in  town  youchofe 
To  correfpond  no  more  in  profe, 
My  vifcious  mufe  —  (but  'tis  in  vain 
Of  her  abufes  to  complain)  — 
Neglects  to  aid,  as  I  expected, 
And  fo  I  muft  be  felf-dire£ted. 

You've  broke  th'  agreement,  Sir,  I  find; 
(Excufe  me,  I  muft  fpeak  my  mind) 
It  feems,  in  your  poetic  fit, 


You 


2C2  POETICS. 

You  mind  not  jingling,  when  there's  wit ; 
And  fo  to  write  like  Donne  yon  chofe, 
Whofe  profe  was  verfe,  and  verfe  was  profe : 
From  common  tracts  of  rhyming  ftray, 
And  verfify  another  way. 
Indeed  it  fuits,  I  muft  aver, 
A  genius  to  be  fmgular. 

On  F r  kept  in  durance  vile, 

Did  once  more  erring  fortune  fmile: 
Again  he  would  extend  his  ray, 
And  ihine  his  riches  all  away. 
Birch  faid,    (and  what  he  faid  I  fmg) . 
'A  milling  is  a'ferious  thing;' 

But  like  Icarus ,  F r  fprings, 

Where  funs  difTolv'd  his  waxen  wings: 
No  more  the  wings  his  weight  fuftain, 
He  plunges  headlong  in  the  main : 
The  /hades  of  death  fteal  o'er  his  eyes; 
And  to  black  Styx  the  fpirit  flies. 

Life  is  a  grand  vicifntude 
Of  pain  and  health,  of  ill  and  good : 
Your  goofe  now  mourns  a  murder'd  mate, 
(Attend  while  I  the  fadt  relate) 
He  chanc'd  upon  a  cloudlefs  morn, 
To  wander  in  our  neighbour's  corn ; 
Perhaps  he  thought  all  lands  were  free, 
And  none  had  private  property  ; 


Or 


POETICS.  2'Og 

Or  fure  he  ne'er  had  trod  the  plain, 
And  pick'd,  like  Eve,  forbidden  grain  : 
Carelefs  he  fed,  in  graceful  eafe 
And  fweet  fimplicity  of  geefe. 
Ill-fated  bird  !  he  there  was  kill'd 
By  man,  the  tyrant  of  the  field. 

His  widow's  wing,  Oh  dire  relation ! 
Next  underwent  fad  amputation  : 
Weep  not,  dear  Sir,  at  this  abufe .; 
She  bears  it  like  a  patient  goofe : 
I  fear  the  widow  is  a  prude, 
Or  matters  fooner  would  conclude; 
Or  elfe  you  have  a  coward  "heart, 
And  fear  to  ac~l  the  fuitor's  part. 
Of  all  tfye  things  beneath  the  fun,  you  know3 
Faint  haert  fair  lady  never  won.     Adieu. 


To  theft 


ame. 


JF  ROM  plains  and  peaceful  cots  I  fend 
The  humble  wiflies  of  a  friend : 
May  love  flill  fpread  his  filken  wing, 
And  life  to  you  be  ever  fpring : 
May  virtue  guide  you  with  her  clue,  "j 

Life's  mazy  path  to  wander  thro* ; 
And  may  your  offspring  the  blefl  tradl  purfue :  J 
*  On 


POETICS. 

On  you  may  Heav'n  benignly  fmile, 

And  inward  peace  external  cares  beguile ; 

Long  may  you  live  fupremely  bleft, 

Then  die,  and  be  a  Saviour's  gueft. 

The  wifh  is  o'er,  permit  me  to  defcend 

To  the  familiar  converfe  of  a  friend. 

Well,  you've  done  right  to  get  a  wife, 

For  change  the  comfort  is  of  life ; 

Befides,  I've  read  in  ancient  ftory, 

A  virtuous  wife's  a  crown  of  glory: 

And  yet  'tis  true  that  fome  adorn 

Their  hufband's  brows  with  crown  of  horn: 

The  wifefl  man  on  earth  we  find 

Was  partial  to  the  female  kind, 

Till  he  was  trick'd  a  thoufand  ways, 

(But  men  are  wifer  now-a-days) 

Which  made  the  honeft  Jew  exclaim, 

They  were  all  vanities,   and  vain: 

His  father,  you  remember  David, 

Who  tore  Saul's  fkirt,  and  ran  away  with't, 

Healfohad,   (tho'  lov'd  of  God) 

Plurality  of  wives  allow'd : 

But  fmce  polygamy's  abolifh'd, 

The  wives  are  chafte,   the  hufbands  polifh'd. 

Since  with  plagiary  you've  tax'd  me, 

And  never  fmce  for  pardon  afk'd  me, 

-    To 


POETICS. 

To  prove  my  falfe  accufer  guilty, 
Repeat  his  borrowed  lines  I  will  t'ye : 
"  No  goofe  that  fwims,  butfoon  or  late 
"  Will  find  fome  gander  for  a  mate." 
You'll  find  this  couplet,  I'll  engage, 
In  Wife  of  Bath,  the  hundredth  page, 
Volume  the  fecond, — works  of  Pope — 
Brother,  you're  now  convinc'd,  I  hope, 

However,  what  you  prophefied 
About  the  goofe,  is  verified  ; 
-She's  flipt  her  neck  in  marriage  noofe, 
And  owns  a  fov'reign  Lord,   and  goofe. 
Adieu,  Mon  Cher  Ami;  the  Mufe 
JBegs  you  her  freedom  will  excufe. 

To  the  fame. 

JL)  E  AR  brother,  to  thefe  happy  mades  repair, 
And  leave,  Oh  leave  the  city's  noxious  air: 
I'll  try  defcription,  friend — methinks  I  lee 
'Twill  influence  your  curiofity. 

Before  our  door  a  meadow  flies  the  eye, 
Circled  by  hills,  whofe  fummits  croud  the  Iky ; 
The  filver  lily  there  exalts  her  head, 
And  op'nfng  rofes  balmy  odours  fpread, 
While  golden  tulips  flame  beneath  the  made 

T  In 


j  ' 

} 


£06  POETICS. 

In  ihort,  not  Iris  with  her  painted  bow, 
Nor  varied  tints  an  evening  fun  can  fhow, 
Can  the,  gay  colours  of  the  flow'rs  exceed, 
Whofe  glowing  leaves  diverfify  this  mead : 
Arid  when  the  blooms  of  Flora  difappear, 
The  weighty  fruits  adorn  the  fatiate  year : 
Here  vivid  cherries  bloom  in  fcarlet  pride, 
And  purple  plums  blufli  by  the  cherries  fide ; 
The  fable  berries  bend  the  pliant  vines, . 
And  fmiling  apples  glow  in  crimfon  rinds; 
Ceres  well  pleas'd,  beholds  the  furrow'd  plain, 
And  fhow'rs  her  bleffings  on  th'    induftrious 

fwain ; 

Plenty  fits  laughing  in  each  humble  cot; 
None  wrifb  for  that  which  heaven  gives  them  not. 
But~fweet  Contentment  ftill  with  fober  charms,, 
Encircles, us  within  herblifsful  arms; 
Birds  unmolefted  chaunt  their  early  notes, 
And  on  the  dewy  fpray  expand  their  throats ; 
Before  the  caftern  fkies  areftreak'd  with  light, 
Or  from  the  arch  of  .Heaven  retreats  the  night^ 
The  mufical  inhabitants  of  air, 
To  praife  their. Maker,  tuneful  Jays  prepare. 
Here  by  a  fpring,  wrhofe  glafly  furface  moves 
Atev'ry  kifs  from  Zephyr  of  the. groves, 
While  pailing  clouds  look  brighter  in    the 

ft  re  am, 
Your  poet  fits  and  paints  the  rural  fcene. 

To 


POETICS,  2O/ 


To  Mr.  BLEECKER. 

I    ES,  I  invok'd  the  Mufes'  aid 
To  help  me  write,  for  'tis  their  trade-; 
But  only  think,  ungrateful  Mufes, 
They  fent  dame  Iris  with  excufes, 
They'd  other  bufmefs  for  to  follow, 
Beg'd  I'd  apply  to  God  Apollo. 

The  God  faid,  as  heav'n's  charioteer, 
He  had  no  time  to  mind  us  here  ; 
Said  if  we  rac'd  round  earth  like  Phoebus 
One  day,  it  fadly  would  fatigue  us  ; 
Yet  we  expect,  when  tir'd  at  night, 
He'd  flay  from  bed  to  help  us  write  : 
Nor  need  we  afk  his  fitter  Phosbi y 
For  turning  round  had  made  her  giddy ; 
Her  liifpi ration  would  confufe  us, 
So  counfeli'd  us  to  coax  the  Mufes. 
Quite  difappointed  at  this  Ie6ture 
I  left  his  worship  fipping  ne6tar ; 
But,  pettimly  as  I  left  his  dome, 
It  chanc'd  I  met  the  Goddefs  Wifdom. 
No  wonder  fhe  is  wife,   'tis  faid 
She  was  the  product  of  y.ove's  head. 

T  2  "  '  Bright 


208  POETICS. 

'  Bright  Queen/  faid  I,  '  in  thefe  abodes 
'  I  beg'd  a  favour  of  the  Gods : 

*  They  wiih'd  the  poets  at  the  devil, 

*  And  the  nine  ladies  were  uncivil: 
'  Apolla  told  me  he  was  lazy, 

*  And  call'd  his  fifter  Phoebe  crazy. 

'  Permit  me  then  your  kind  protection ; 

*  From  you  I  cannot  fear  rejection.' 

%riionia  gave  me  fmiles  and  nods, 
(The  unfual  compliments  of  Gods,) 
And  look'd  benign  as  rifmg  fun, 
Which  gave  me  courage  to  go  on. 
«  — Oh  Goddefs  !  let  your  powerful  arms 

*  Keep  young  Ulyjfus  from  all  harms ; 

«  Attend  him  in  each  ftrange  adventure,. 
c  And  be,  inhuman  form,  his  mentor: 

*  Oh  bid  him  fhun  Circean  feafts, 

'  Whofe  magic  pow'r  turns  men  to  beafts  i 

*  Nor  let  him  touch  the  fatal  tree, 
i  Left  he  forget  Penelope: 

1  Keep  him  from  a  Caljpfo's  arms, 

'  And  all  the  treaclierous  Syren's  charms: 

'  In  Cyclop  cells  let  him  not  enter ; 

*  Permit  him  not  at  games  to  venture ; 

*  Sure  as  he  does,  he  is  undone, 

*  Each  (harper  is  a  lejlngon ; 

6  Nor 


POETICS,  209 

e  Nor  city  luxury  inure  him, 

*  To  be  a  modern  epicurian ; 

*  (For  Temperance,  celeftial  maid, 
«  Is  ftill  a  virtue  of  thfe  ihade :) 

*  And  dire  difeafes  burn  each  vein  *v 

*  Of  thofe  who  Temperance  prophane,  > 
'  And  kill  her  facred  beeves  in  vain.            J 

*  The  Grecians  once  to  Pluto's  glooms 
'•  So  funk  for  flaughter'd  hecatombs. 

*  If  men  believ'd. in  tranfmigration, 

'  How  would  it  fpare  the  brute  creation  ? 
'But,  Goddefs!  let  him  foon  return, 
«  Nor  twice  ten  years  in  abfence  mourn ; 

*  To  thofe  who  love,  a  month  appears 
c  As  long  as  twenty  tedious  years.' 

Minerva  rais'd  her  aegis  high, 
That  blaz,'d  effulgence  thro'  the  iky, 
And,  fmiling  took  the  common  oath, 
To  be  immenfelykind  to  both; 
Then  down  from  heaven's  pure  aether  flew 
Swifter  than  light— in.  fearch  of  you. 

On  the  IMMENSITY  of  CREATION.. 

v^/H  !  could  I  borrow  fome  celeftial  plume, 
This  narrow  globe  mould  not  confine  me  long 
T  3  In 


210  POETICS. 

In  its  contracted  fphere — the  vafl  expanfe, 
Beyond  where  thought  can  reach,  or  eye  can 

glance, 

My  curious  fpirit,  charm'd  fhould  traverfe  o'er, 
New  worlds  to  find,  new  fyftems  to  explore: 
When  thefe  appear'd,  again  I'd  urge  my  flight 
Till  all  creation  open'd  to  my  fight. 

Ah!  unavailing  wifli,  abfurd  and  vain, 
Fancy  return  and  drop  thy  wing  again ; 
Could'ft  thou  more  fwift  than  light  move 

fteady  on, 

Thy  fight  as  broad,  and  piercing  as  the 
And  Gabriel's  years  too  added  to  thy  own  ; 
NorGtf£r/V/'sfight,northought,nor  rapid  wing, 
Can  pafs  the  immenfe  domains  of  th'  eternal 

King ; 

The  greateft  feraph  in  his  bright  abode 
Can't  comprehend  the  labours  of  a  God. 
Proud  reafon  fails,  and  is  confounded  here ; 
—Man  how  contemptible  thou  doit  appear  ! 
What  art  thou  in  this  fcene  ?--- Alas !   no  more 
Than  a  miall  atom  to  the  fandy  fhore, 
A  drop  of  water  to  a  boundlefs  fea, 
A  fmgle  moment  to  eternity. 


THOUGHT 


nove-j 

;  fun,  f 
vn;    J 


POETICS.  211 


A  THOUGHT  on  DEATH. 


!  my  thoughts,  how  faint  they  rife? 
Their  pinions  clogg'd  with  dirt  ; 
They  cannot  gain  the  diftant  fkies^ 
But  gravitate  to  earth. 

No  angel  meets  them  on  the  way,. 

To  guide  them  to  new  fpheres  \ 
And  for  to  light  them,  not  a  ray 

Of  heavenly  gace  appears. 

Return  then  to  thy  native  ground, 

And  fmk  into  the  tomhs  ; 
There  take  a  difmal  journey  round 

The  melancholy  rooms  : 

There  level'd  equal  king  and  fwain, 

The  vicious  and  die  jufl  ; 
The  turf  ignoble  limbs  contain, 

One  rots  beneath  a  bufl. 

What  heaps  of  human  bones  appear 

Pil'd  up  along  the  walls  ! 
Thefe  are  Death's  trophies  —  furniture 

Of  his  tremendous  halls; 

The 


212  POETICS. 

The  water  oozing  thro'  the  ftones, 

Still  drops  a  mould'ring  tear ; 
Rots  the  gilt  coffin  from  the  bones, 

And  lays  the  carcafe  bare. 

This  is  Chora— come,  let's  fee 

Once  more  the  blooming  fair ; 
Take  off  the  lid — ah  !   'tis  not  /he, 

A  vile  impoftor  there. 

Is  this  the  charmer  poets  fung,. 

And  vainly  deified, 
The  envy  of  the  maiden  throng? 

(How  humbling  to  our  pride  !) 

Unhappy  man,  of  tranfient  breath, 

Juft  born  to  view  the  day, 
Drop  in  the  grave--- ^and  after  death 

To  filth  and  duft  decay. 

Me-thinks  the  vault,  at  ev'ry  tread, 

Sounds  deeply  in  my  ear, 
'Thou  too  {halt  join  the  filent  dead, 

6  Thy  final  fcene  is  here.' 

Thy  final  fcene  !   no,  I  retract, 

Not  till  the  clarion's  found 
Demands  the  ileeping  prisoners  back 

From  the  refunding  ground  i 

'Net 


POETICS.  213 

Not  till  that  audit  mall  I  hear 

Th'  immutable  decree, 
Decide  the  folemn  quefcion,  where 

I  pafs  eternity. 

Death  is  the  conqueror  of  clay, 

And  can  but  clay  detain  ; 
The  foul,  fuperior,  fprings  away, 

And- (corns  his  fervile  chain. 

The  juft  arife,  and  (brink  no  more 
At  graves,  and  fhrouds,  and  worms, 

Confcious  they  fhall  (when  time  is  o'er) 
Inhabit  angel  forms. 


ELECT  on  the  Death  of  CLEORA. 

O  more  of  Zephyr's  airy  robe  I'll  (ing,. 
Or  balmy  odours  dropping  from  his  wing, 
Or  how  his  fpicy  breath  revives  the  lands, 
And  curls  the  waves  which  roll  o'er  cry  Hal 

fands. 

No  more  I'll  paint  the  glowing  hemifphere, 
Or  rocks  ambitious,  piercing  upper  air; 
The  fubjects  of  the  grave  demand  my  lay,,. 
Spectator  now,.  I  foon  fhall  be  as  they. 


214  POETICS. 

Chora,  art  thou  gone?  thoudoft  not  hear 
The  voice  of  grief,  nor  fee  the  dropping  tear ; 
And  yet,  it  foothes  my  forrows  while  I  mourn1 
In  artlefs  verfe,  and  weep  upon  thy  urn. 

Tho'  bright  from  thee  the  rays  of  beauty, 

ftream'd, 

Thy  mind  irradiate,  ftronger  graces  heam'd ; 
The  meteor  ihone  fo  permanent  and  fair, 
Who'd  not  miilook  the  vapour  for  a  ftar  ? 
E'en  then when  lying  poets  flattering- 
breath 

Pronounc'd  fo  fair  a  form  exempt  from  deaths 
The  icy  angel  met  her  on  the  plain, 
And  bade  our  friend  adorn  his  ghaftly  train  ; 
The  vital  heat  forfakes  her  loitering  blood ; 
The  blood  Hands  Hill — the  fprings  of  life  all 

Hood; 

Down  funk  the  fair,  while  nature  gave  a  groan, 
To  fee  hernobleft  ftru&ure  fallfo  foon. 

Butfay,fome  pow'r,  where  is  the  fpirit  fled, 
To  wait  the  time  when  it  mall  join  the  dead  ? 
Say,  fprings  her  a6live  foul  beyond  the  fkies, 
Or  ftill  around  the  clay  enamour'd  flies? 
Or  fits  exalted  on  th'  empyreal  height, 
'Midft  deluges  of  primogenial  light  ? 
Or  elfe  expatiates,  with  enlarged  pow'rs, 
Where,  mortal  man's  conception  never  fears?1 

— AhJ 


POETICS. 

— Ah  !  when  the  brittle  bands  of  life  areburfl, 
To  meet  her  on  the  fhores  of  blifs,  I  truft; 
Sure  I  fhall  know  her  in  the  realms  above, 
By  thofefvveet  eyes  which  beam  inceffant  love : 
There  we'll  renew  the  friendflijp  here  begun, 
But  which  fhall  la'ft  thro*  th'  eternal  noon  : 
Till  then  fufpend  my  fond  enquiries,  where, 
And  with  what  fouls  {he  breathes  immortal  air; 
Meanwhile,  with  .imitative  art  I'll  try, 
Nobly  like  her  to  live—like  her  to  die! 


Written  In  the  ^/ratfn?w  BURGOYNE. 


W  AS  it  for4:his,  with  thee  a  pleafing  load, 
I  fadly  wander'd  thro'  the  hoftile  wood  ; 
When  I  thought  fortune's  fpite  could  do  no 

more, 
To  fee  thee  periih  on  a  foreign  more  ? 

Oh  my  lov'd  babe  i  my  treafure's  left  behind, 
Ne'er  funk  a  cloud  of  grief  upon  my  mind  ; 
Rich  in  my  children—  -on  my  arms  I  bore 
My  living  treafures-  from  the  fcalper's  pow'r: 
When  I  fat  down  to  reft  beneath  fome  ihade, 
On  the  foft  grafs  how  innocent  ihe  play'd, 

While 


2l6  POETICS. 

While  herfweet  fitter,  from  the  fragrant  wild, 
Collects  the  flow'rs  to  pleafe  my  precious  child .; 
Unconfcious  of  her  danger,  laughing  roves, 
Nor  dreads  the  painted  favage  in  the  groves. 

Soon  as  the  fpires  of  Albany  appeared, 
With  fallacies  my  rifmg  grief  I  cheer'd  ; 
••*  Refign'd  I  bear,'  faid  I,  *  heaven's  juft  reproof, 
<  Content  to  dwell  beneath  a  ftranger's  roof; 
•*  Content  my  babes  fhould  eat  dependent  bread, 

*  Or  by  the  labour  of  my  hands  be  fed: 

«  What  tho'  my  houfes,  lands,  and  goods  are  gone, 
'  My  babes  remain — thefe  I  can  call  my  own.* 
But  foon  my  lov'd  Abella  hung  her  head, 
From  her  foft  cheek  the  bright  carnation  fled  ; 
Her  fmooth  tranfparent  fkin  too  plainly  fhew'd 
How  fierce  thro'  every  vein  the  fever  glow'd. 
- — In  bitter  anguifh  o'er  her  limbs  I  hung, 
I  wept  and  figh'd,but  forrow  chain'd  my  tongue  ; 
At  length  her  languid  eyes  clos'd  from  the  day? 
The  idol  of  my  foul  was  torn  away; 
Her  fpirit  fled  and  left  me  ghaftly  clay ! 

Then— then  my  foul  rejected  all  relief, 
Comfort  I  wim'd  not  for,  I  lov'd  my  grief: 

*  Hear,  my  Abella.r  cried  I,  '  hear  me  mourn, 

*  For  one  mort  moment,  oh  !  my  child  return  ; 

*  Let  my  complaint  detain  thee  from  the  Ikies, 

*  Though  troops  of  angels  urge  thee  on  to  rife.* 

All 


k«*  > 

} 


TOETICS. 

All  night  I  mourn'd— and  when  the  rifmg  day 
Gilt  her  fad  chert  with  his  benigneft  ray, 
My  friends  prefs  round  me  with  officious  care, 
Bid  me  fupprefs  my  fighs,  nor  drop  a  tear; 
Of  refignation  talk'd— -paffions  fubdu'd, 
Of  fouls  ferene  and  chriftian  fortitude  5 
Bade  me  be  calm,  nor  murmur  at  my  lofs, 
J3ut  unrepining  bear  each  heavy  crofs. 

*  Go  P  cried  I  raging,  *  Hoick  bofoms  go  ! 
•*  Whofe  hearts  vibrate  not  to  the  found  of  woe  j 
«  Go  from  the  fweet  fociety  of  men, 
«  Seek  fome  unfeeling  tyger's  favage  den, 
'  There  calm — alone — of  refignation  preach, 
*  My  ChrifPs  examples  better  precepts  teach.' 
Where  the  cold  limbs  of  gentle  Laz?rus  lay 
I  find  him  weeping  o'er  the  humid  clay ; 
His  fpirit  groan'd,  while  the  beholders  faid 
(With  gum  ing  eyes)  'feehowhelov'dthedead!* 
And  when   his  thoughts  on  great  Jerusalem 

turn'd, 

Oh  1  how  pathetic  o'er  her  fall  he  mourn'd  ! 
And  fad  Gethfemene's  no&urna!  made 
The  anguifli  of  my  weeping  Lord  Furvey'd: 
Yes,  'tis  my  boaft  to  harbour  in  my  bread 
The  fenn'bilities  by  God  expreft ; 
Nor  mall  the  mollifying  hand  of  time, 
Which  wipes  ofFcommon  forrows, cancel  mine. 
U  A  COM- 


2*8 


A  COMPLAINT. 


JL  ELL  me  thou  all  pervading  mind, 

When  I  this  life  forfake, 
Muftev'ry  tender  tie  unbind, 
Each  fweet  conne&ion  break  ? 

How  mall  I  leave  thee,  oh  !  my  love, 

And  blooming  progeny  ? 
If  I  without  thee  mount  above, 

'Twill  be  noheav'n  to  me. 

Ah?  when  beneath  the  arching  vauh 

My  lifelefs  form's  removed, 
Let  not  oblivion  fink  the  thought, 

How  much,  how  long  I  lov'd. 

Come  oft  my  grafly  tomb  to  fee, 

And  drop  thy  forrows  there  ; 
No  'balmy  dews  of  heav'n  {hall  be 

Refreming  as  thy  tear, 

There  give  thy  griefs  full  vent  to  flow 

O'er  the  unconfcious  dead, 
With  no  fpeclator  to  thy  woe 

But  ray  attendant  '(hade. 

ANOTHER 


POET  1C  S< 


ANOTHER. 


apprehending  death  and  pain, 
To  whom  great  God  fhall  I  complaint 

To  whom  pour  out  my  tears 
But  to  the  powYthat  gave  me  breath, 
The  arbiter  of  life  and  death, 

The  ruler  of  the  fpheres  ? 

Soon  to  the  grave's  Cimmerian  (hade 
I  muft  defcend  without  thine  aid, 

To  (lop  my  fpirit's  flight  ; 
Leave  my  dear  partner  here  behind, 
And  blooming  babe,  whofe  opening  mini 

Juft  lets  in  Reafou's  light. 

When  flier,  felicitous  to  know 
Why  I  indulge  my  filent  woe, 

Clings  fondly  round  my  neck, 
My  paffions  then  know  no  commands, 
My  heart  with  fwelling  grief  expands,. 

Its  tender  fibres  break. 

Fatherof  the  creation  wide, 
Why  haft  thou  not  to  man  deny'd 
The  iilk.cn  tyeof  love? 

U  2^  Whv 


£20  POETICS, 

Why  fqod  celeftial  let  him  tafte, 
Then  tear  him  from  the  rich  repaft, 
Real  miferies  to  prove  ? 

A  PROSPECT  of  DEATH. 

JL^EATH!  thou  real  friend  of  innocence, 
Tho'  dreadful  unto  fhivering  fenfe, 
I  feel  my  nature  tottering  o'er 
Thy  gloomy  waves,  which  loudly  roar: 
Immenfe  the  fcene,  yet  dark  the  view, 
Nor  Rcafon  darts  her  vifion  thro'. 
Virtue!   fupreme  of  earthly  good, 
Oh  let  thy  rays  illume  the  road  ; 
And  when  dafh'd  from  the  precipice, 
Keep  me  from  finking  in  the  feas  : 
Thy  radient  wings,  then  wide  expand, 
And  bear  me  to  celeftial  land. 

To  Mlfs  CATHARINE  TEN  EYCK, 

V-iOME  and  fee  our  habitation, 

Condefcend  to  be  our  gueft ;. 
Tho'  the  veins  of  warring  nations 

Bleed,  yet  here  fecure  we  reft. 

By 


POETICS. 

By  the  light  of  Cynthia's  crefcent, 
Playing  thro*  the  waving  trees ; 

When  we  walk,  we  wifh  you  prefent 
To  participate  our  blifs. 

Late  indeed,  the  cruel  favage 
Here  with  looks  ferocious  flood  ; 

Here  the  ruftic's'  cot  did  ravage, 

Stain'd  the  grafs  with  human  blood. 

Late  their  hands  fent  conflagration 
Rolling  thro7  the  blooming  wild, 

Siez'd  with  death,  the  brute  creation 
Mourn'd,  while  defolation  finii'd. 

Spiral  flames  from  tailed  cedar 
Struck  to  heav'n  a  heat  intenfe  ; 

They  cancell'd  thus  with  impious  labour, 
Wonders  of -Omnipotence* 

But  when  Conqufft  rearM  her  ilandard, 

And  tb?  Aborigines  were  fled, 
Peace,  who  long  an  exile  wander'd, 

Now  returned  to  blefs- the  {hade. 

Now  JEolus  blows-  the  afhes 

From  fad  Terra's  black'ned  brow, 

While  the  whift'ling  fwain  with  ruflies 
Roofs  his  cott,  late  IcvelM  low. 

U  3  From 


POETICS. 


From  the  teeming  womb  of  Nature 
Burfting  flowr's  exhale  perfume  ; 

Shady  oaks,  of  ample  ftature, 
Caft  again  a  cooling  gloom. 

Waves  from  each  refle&ing  fountain-, 
Roll  again  unmixM  with  gore, 

And  verging  from  the  lofty  ••mountain, 
Falls  beneath  with  folemn  roar. 

Here,  embofom'd  in  'this  Eden, 
Cheerful  all  our  hours  are  fpent; 

Here  no  pleafures  are  forbidden,. 
Sylvan  joys  are  innocent. 


THE  STORM. 

V^OME  let  us  fing  how  when  the  Judge") 

Supreme 

Mounts  the  black  tempeft,  arm'd  with  point-  I 
ed  flame,  j 

What  cluft'ring  horrors  form  his  awful  train :  j 
Columns  of  fmoke  obfcure  the  cryftal  fkies, 
The  whirlwind  howls,  the  livid  lightning  fles, 
The  burfting  thunder  founds  from  iliore  to  Ihore, 
Earth  trembles  at  the  loud  prolonged  roar  : 

Down 


POtTICf. 

6n  the  mountain  forefts  rufh  the  hafr, 
Th'  afpiring  pines  fall  headlong  in  the  val£ ; 
The  riv'Iets,  fwell'cl  with  deluges  of  rainv 
Rife  o'er  their  banks  and  overflow  the  plain. 

Th*  affrighted  peafantope's  his  humble  door, 
While  from  his  roof  the  clatt'ring  torrents  pour; 
He  fees  his  barns  all  red  with  conflagration, 
His  flocks  borne  off  by  fudden  inundation; 
His  teeming  fields,  robbrd  of  their  wavy  pride, 
By  cat're&s  tumbling  down  the  mountain's  fide. 
The  fhock    fufpends  his  pow'rs,   he  ftands 

diftrefi, 

To  fee  his  toil  of  years  at  once  reversed. 
His  tender  mate,  of  philofophic  foul, 
Reproves  his  grief,  and  thus  her  accents  roll : 
'  Exert  thy  fortitude,  for  grief  is  vain, 

*  Our  bread  by  labour  we- can  yet  obtain:" 
'  If  riches  were  the  tefl  of  virtue,  then 

*  Pale  Poverty  were  infamy  to  men ; 

«  But  iince  we  find  the  virtuous  often  dwells 

'  In  public  odium,  or  in  lonely  cells, 

4  While  thofe  whofe  crimes  blot  Nature's  af- 

pe£t  o'er, 
«  Who  burn  whole  towns,   and  quench  the 

flames  in  gore ; 

'In 


POETICS, 

«  In  Pleafure^  lap  fupine  their  moments  fpend, 
'Yet  wifh  annihilation  when  they  end ; 

*  The  laws  of  retribution  then  require, 

6  Our  joys  begin  with  death— when  their Y 

expire; 
<  Reafon  allows  no  fcepticifm  here, 

*  The  good  muft  hope,  the  bad  have  much  to 

fear: 

'And  take  a  retrofpecl:  of  thy  paft  years, 
'What  placid  fcenes  on  every  hand  appears  ! 
'To  call  the  tears  of  black  Remorfe  no  crime, 
'  Can  nowfuffufe  thy  cheek  or  cloud  thy  mind. 
«  Grieve  not  that  Fate,  with  elemental  jftrife 
'  Has  torn  away  our  hopes  of  mortal  joys ; 

*  To  put  our  virtues  but  in  exercife 

«  Are  the  misfortunes  that  arife  in  life.* 

The  ruftic  heard  his  forrows  all  away, 
Sweet  Peace  broke  on  him  with  a  bright'ning 

ray ; 

Galmnefs  and  Hope  their  empire  repofTeft, 
Amidft  the  ftorm  he  feels  ferenely  bleft ; 
Amidil  the  wreck  of  all  his  earthly  flore 
He  feels  more  grateful  than  he  did  before, , 


DESPONDENCT. 


POETICS, 


DESPON&ENCr. 

VjOME  Grief,  and  fmg  a  folemn  dirge 

Beneath  this  midnight  (hade  ; 
From  central  darknefs  now  emerge, 

And  tread  the  lonely  glade.. 

Attend  each  mourning  pow'r  around  , 

While  tears  inceffant  flow; 
Strike  all  your  firings  with  doleful  found, 

Till  Grief  melodious  grow. 

This  is  the  cheerlefs  hour  of  night, 

For  forrow  only  made, 
When  no  intruuve  ray  of  light 

The  filent  glooms  pervade. 

Tho'  fuch  the  darknefs  of  my  foul, 

Not  fuch  the  calmnefs  there, 
But  waves  of  guilt  tumultuous  roll 

'Midft  billows  of  defpair. 

Fallacious  Pleafuris  tinfel  train 

My  foul  rejects  with  fcorn  ; 
If  higher  joys  fhe  can't  attain, 

She'd  rather  chufc  to  mourn; 

For 


226  POETICS. 

For  blifs  fuperior  fhe  was  made, 

Or  for  extreme  defpair: 
If  pain  awaits  her  pafl  the  dead 

Why  ihould  ihe  triumph  here  ? 

Tho*  Reafon  points  at  good  fupreme, 
Yet  Grace  muft  lead  us  thence  ; 

Muft  wake  us  from  this  pleafing  dream , 
The  idle  joys  of  Senfe, 

Surely  I  wilh  the  blackeft  night- 

Or  Nature  to  remain, 
'Till  Chrift  arife  with  healing  light^ 

Then  welcome  day  again. 


ELEGT  on  the. death  of  'Gen.  MONTGOMERY. 

JVlELPOMENE,  now  ftrike.  a  mournful? 

ftiing, 

Montgomery's  fate  affifting  me  to  fmg  ! 
Thou  faw  him  fall  upon  the  hoftile  plain 
Yet  ting'd  with  blood  that  gufh'd  from  Mon* 

rrt/tfz's  veins, 
Where  gallant  Wolfe  for  conque-il  gave  his 

breath, 

Where  num'rQUs  heroes  m.et  the  angel  Death. 

Ah  ! 


Ah !  while  the  loud  reiterated  roar 
Of  cannon  echoed  on  from  Jfhore  to  more, 
Benigner  Peace,  retiring  to  the  (hade, 
Had  gathered  laurel  to  adorn  his  head : 
The  laurel  yet  fliall  grace  his  bufl ;  but,  oh  ! 
America  muft  \vear  fad  cyprefs  now. 
Dauntlefs  he  led  her  armies  to  the  war, 
Invulnerable  was  his, foul  to- fear: 
When  they  explored  their  way  o'er  tracklefs 

fnows, 
Where  Life's  warm  tide  thro'  every  channel 

froze, 

His  eloquence  made  the  chill'd  bofom  glow, 
And  animated  them  to  meet  the  foe ; 
Nor  fkvn'd  this  bright  confpicuous  grace  alone, 
The  fofter  virtues  in  his  bofom  {hone  ; 
It  bled  with  every  foldier's  recent  wound ; 
He  rais'd  the  fallen  vet'ran  from  the  ground; 
He  wip'd  the  eye  of  grief,  it  ceas'd  to  flow ; 
His  heart  vibrated  to  each  found  of  woe : 
His  heart  too  good  his  country  to  betray 
For  fplendid  pofts  or  mercenary  pay, 
Too  great  to  fee  a  virtuous  land  oppreft, 
Nor  ftrive  to  have  her  injuries  redrefs'd. 
Oh  had  but  Carl&ton  fuffer'd  in  his  (lead ! 
Had  half  idolitrous  Canadia  bled  I 

'Tis 


-228  POETICS. 

'Tis  not  for  him  but  for  ourfelves  we  grieve, 
Like  him  to  die  is  better  than  to  live ; 
His  urn  by  a  whole  nation's  tears  bedew'd, 
His  mem'ry  bleft  by  all  the  great  and  good: 
O'er  his  pale  corfe  the  marble*  foon  fhall  rife. 
And  the  tall  column  ihoot  into  the  fkies ; 
There  long  his  praife  by  freemen  fhall  be  read, 
As  foftly  o'er  the  hero's  daft  they  tread. 

*  In  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  the  city  of  New- York,  is  a 
beautiful  monument  railed  to  his  memory,  by  order  of  Con- 
grefi,  1783. 


THAUMANTIA  and  FAME. 

\JTO  Thaumantia?  faid  Jove,  «  and  defcend 
from  the  fky, 

*  For  Fame's  golden  clarion  I  hear ; 

«  Go  learn  what  great  mortal's  defert  is  fo  high 

*  As  to  afk  notes  fo  loud,  fweet,  and  clear. 
The  goddefs  in  hafte  met  the  ftarry  wing'd  dame, 

And  demands  why  her  notes  fhe  doesraife  ? 
*  For  the  greateft  of  patriots  and  heroes,'  faid 

Fame, 
6  Tell  Jove  it  is  WASHINGTON'S  praife  !' 

RECOLLECTION. 


POETICS.  229 


RECOLLECTION. 

OOON  as  the  gilded  clouds  of  evening  fly, 
And  Luna  lights  her  taper  in  thefky, 
The  filent  thought  infpiring  folemn  fcene 
Awakes  my  foul  to  all  that  it  has  been. 
I  was  the  parent  of  the  fofteft  fair 
Who  ere  refpir'd  in  wide  Columbia's  air; 
A  tranfient  glance  of  her  love  beaming  eyes 
Convey 'd  into  the  foul  a  paradife. 
How  has  my  cheek  with  rapture  been  fuffus'd, 
When  funk  upon  my  bofom  ilie  repos'd  ? 
I  envied  not  the  ermin'd  prince  of  earth, 
Nor  the  gay  fpirit  of  aeriel  birth  ; 
Nor  the  bright  angel  circumfus'd  with  light, 
While  the  fweet  charmer  liv'd  to  blefs  my  fight. 
What  art  thou  now,  my  love  !-•— a  few  dry 

bones, 

Unconfcious  of  my  unavailing  moans : 
Oh!  mv  Abdla!  oh!  my  burfting  heart 
Shall  never  from  thy  dear  idea  part ! 
Thro*  JDftjM's-cold  gates  thine  image  will  I  bear, 
And  mount  to  heav  'n,  and  ever  love  thee  there. 

X  On 


POETICS. 


On  Reading  DRTDEN's  FIRGIL, 


OW  ceafe  thefe  tears,  lay  gentle 
Let  recent  forrows  dim  the  paufing  eye  : 
Shall  JEneas  for  loft  Creufa  mourn, 
And  tears  be  wanting  on  AbellcCs  urn  ? 
Like  him  I  loft  my  fair  one  in  my  flight 

*  From  cruel  foes—and  in  the  dead  of  night. 
Shall  he  lament  the  fall  of  Illion\  tow'rs, 
And  we  not  mourn  the  fudden  ruin  of  our*s  ? 

.  See  Tork  on  fire— while  borne  by  winds  each 

flame 

Projects  its  glowing  fheet  o'er  half  the  main; 
Th'  affrighted  favage,  yelling  with  amaze, 
From  Allegany  fees  the  rolling  blaze. 
Far  from  thefe  fcenes  of  horror,  in  the  fhade 
I  faw  my  aged  parent  fafe  convey  'd; 
Then  fadly  followed  to  the  friendly  land, 
With  myfurviv'mg  infant  by  the  hand. 
No  cumb'rous  houfhold  gods  had  I  indeed 
To  load  my  fhoulders,  and  my  flight  impede ; 
The  hero's  idols  fav'd  by  him  remain ; 
My  gods  took  care  of  me — not  /  of  them  / 
The  Trojan  faw  Anch'ifes  breathe  his  laft, 

CWhen  all  domeftic  dangers  he  had  pafs'd: 


231 

So  my  lov'd  parent*  after  fhe  had  fled, 
Lamented,  perifh'd  on  a  Granger's  bed. 
— He  held  his  way  o'er  the  Cerulian  Main, 
But  /returned  to  hoftile  fields  again. 


To  Mifs  TEN  EYCK.* 


D; 


'EAR  Kitty,  while  you  rove  thro'  fylvan. 

bow'rs, 

Inhaling  fragrance  from  falubrious  flow'rs, 
Or  view  your  blufhes  mant'ling  inthe  itream, 
When  Luna  gilds  it  with  her  amber  beam  ; 
The  brazen  voice  of  war  awakes  our  fears, 
Impearling  every  damafk  cheek  with  tears. 

Thefavage,  rufhing  down  the  echoing  vales, 
Frights  the  poor  hind  with  ill  portending  yells  ^ 
A  livid  white  his  confort's  cheeks  inveft ; 
She  drops  her  blooming  infant  from  her  bread ; 
She  tries  to  fly,  but  quick  recoiling  fees 
The  painted  Indian  ifTuing  from  the  trees ; 
Then  life  fufpeniive  finks  her  on  the  plain, 
Till  dire  explofions  wake  her  up  -again. 
Oh  horrid  tight !  her  partner  is  no  more  ; 
Pale  is  his  corfe,  or  only  ting'd  with  gore  ; 

X  2  Her 

*  Now  Mrs.  BRIDGE.N. 


POETICS. 

Her  playful  babe  is  dafh'd  agalnft  the 
Its  fcalp  torn  off,  and  fra&ur'd  all  its  bones. 
Where  are  the  dimpling'  ("miles  it  lately  wore? 
Charily  in  agony  it  finiles  no  more  ! 
Dumb  with  amaze,  and  ftupify'd  with  grief, 
The  captur'd  wretch  mult  now  attend  hei;chief: 
Reluctantly  (he  quits  the  fcene  of  blood, 
When  lo  I   a  fudden  light  illumes  the  wood: 
She  turns,  and  fees  the  riling  fires  expand,, 
And  conflagration  -roll  thro'  half  the  land; 
The  weftern  flames  to  orient  ikies  are  driv'n, 
And  change  the  azure  to  a  fable  heav'n. 

Such  are  ourwoes-,  my  dear,  and  be  it  known* 
Many  ftill  fufTer.what  I  tell  of  one: 
Na-more  Albania  s  fons  in  {lumber  lie, 
When  Cynthia^  crefcent  gleams  alongthefky  ; 
But  every  ftreet  patrole,  and  thro'  the  night 
Their  beamy  arms  reflect  a  dreadful  light. 

Excufe,  dear  girl,  for  once  this  plaintive  ftrainj 
I  muft  conclude,  left  I  tranfgrefs  again. 

To  Mr.  BLEECKER,  on  hhpaffagcto  New-Turk;. 


Fancy  flillpurfue  th'  expanding  fails, 
Calm  Neptune's  brow,  or  raife  impelling  gales  ? 
Or  with  her  Bleecker,  ply  die  lab'ring  oar,, 
When  plealing  fcenes  invite  him  to  the  iliore, 

There 


POETICS.  233 

There  with  him  thro'  the  fading  vallies  rover 
Bleft  in  idea  with  the  man  I  love  ? 
Methinks  I  fee  the  broad  majeftic  iheet 
Swell  to  the  wind ;  the  flying  ihorcs  retreat: 
I  fee  the  banks,  with  varied  foliage  gay, 
Inhale  the  mifty,  fun's  relu&ant  ray  ; 
The  lofty  groves,  itript  of  their  verdure,  rife 
To  the  inclemence  of  autumnal  fkies. 

Rough  mountains  now  appear,  while  pen 
dant  woods 

Hang  o'er  the  gloomy  fleep  and  fhade  the  floods ;. 
Slow  moves  the.veflel,  while  each  diftant  found 
The  cavern'd  echos  doubly  loud  rebound: 
A  placid  ftream  meanders  on  the  fleep^ 
'Till  tumbling  from  the  cliff,  divides  the  frowns 
ing  deep. 

Oh  tempt  not  Fate  on  thofe  ftupendous  rocks, 
Where  never  fhephercl  led  his  timid  flocks; 
But  fhaggecl -bears  in  thofe  wild  deferts  ftray, 
And  wolves,  who  howlatgainft  the  lunar  ray  r 
There  builds  the  rav'noushawk  her  lofty  nefr, 
And  there  the  foaring.  eagle  takes  her  reft  ; 
The  folitary  deer  recoils  to  Hear 
The  torrent  thundering  in  the  mid^way  air. 
Ah  !  let  me  intercede— Ah  !  fpare  her  breath, 
Nor  aim  the  tube  charg'd  with  a  leaden  death- 
X  But 


POETICS. 

But  now  advancing  to  the  op'hing  fe3j 
The  wind  fprings  up,  the  lefs'ning  mountains 

flee; 

Theeailern  banks  are  crown'd  with  ruralfeats,, 
And  Nature's  work,  the  hand  of  Art  completes. 
Here  Philips' ?>  .villa, *  where  Pomona  joins- 
At  once  the  product  of  a  hundred  climes ; 
Here,  ting'd  by  Flora,  Afian  flowers  unfold, 
Their  burnifh'd  leaves  of  vegetable  gold. 
When  (hows  defcend,  and  clouds  tumultuous  fly 
Thro'  the  blue  medium  of  the  cryftal  Iky, 
Beneath  his  painted  mimic  heaven  he  roves 
Amidil  the glafs-encirclcd citron  groves; 
The  grape  and  lucious  fig  his  tafte  invite, 
Hcfperian  apples  glow  upon  his  fight; 
The  fweet  auriculas  their  bells  difplay, 
And  Philips  finds  in  January,  Afay. 

But  on  the  other  fide  the  cliffs  arife, 
Ctary&fo- li-ke,  and  feem  to  prop  the  ikies : 
How  oft  with  admiration  have  we  view'd 
Thofe  adamantine  barriers  of  the  flood  ? 
Yet  flill  the.  veflel  cleaves  the  liquid  mead, 
The  profpe<5l  dies,  th'  afpiring  rocks  recede ; 
New  objects  ru(h  upon  the  wond'ring  fight, 
Till  Phcelus  rolls  from  heav'n  his  car  of 

light, 
And  Cynthia  $  filver  crefcent  gilds  the  night- 

I  hear. 
«  The  SEAT 


POETICS*  23$ 

I  hear  the  melting  flute's  melodious  found, 
Which  dying  zephyrs  waft  alternate  round, 
The  rocks  in  notes  refponfive  foft  complain, 
And  think  Amphian  ftrikeshis  lyre  again. 
Ah  !  'tis  myBleecker  breathes  pur  mutual  loves, 
And  fends  the  trembling  airs  thro*  vocal  groves, 

Thus  having  led  you  to  the  happy  ifle 
Where  waves  circumfluent  wafh  the  fertile  foil, 
Where  Hudfon,  meeting  the  Atlantic,  roars, 
The  parting  lands  difmifs  him  from  their  fhores ; 
Indulge  thf  enthufiaft  mufe  her  fav' rite  (train-* 
Of  panegyric,  due  to  Eboracia'*?,  plain. 

There  is  no  lan.d  where  heav'n  her  blefllngs 

pours 

In  fuch  abundance,  ,asuppn  thefe  fhores ; 
With  influence. benign  the  planets  nfe, 
Pure  is  the  sethejy.  and  ferene  the  .fkies ; 
With  annual  gold  kind  Ceres  decks  the  ground, 
Andr  gufhing   fprings  difpenfe   bland  health 

around"! 

No  lucid  gems  are  here,  or  flaming  ore,- 
To  tempt  the  hand  of  Avaric'e  and  Pow'r ; 
But  fun-burnt  Labour,  with  diurnal  toil, 
Bids  treafures  rife  from  the  obedient  foil, 
And  Commerce  calls, the  ihips  acrofs  the  mamj 
For  gold  exchanging  her  fuperfluous  grain ; 
While  Concord,  Liberty,  and  jocund  Health. 
SjxtftwithyoungPleafure  'mid  theruralwealth, 

A  SHORT 


236  POETICS. 


A  SHORT  PASTORAL  DIALOGUE* 

LUCIA. 

V^OME,  my  Delia,  by  this  fpring 
Nature's  bounties  let  us  fing. 
While  the  popler's  filver  {hade 
O'er  our  lambkins  is  difplay'd. 

DELIA* 

See  how  fhe  has  d'eck'd  the  ground; 
Op'ning  flow'rets  blufh  around ;. 
Cryftals  glitter  on  each  hill, 
Poliih'd  by  the  falling  rill. 

LUCIA. 

Here  the  berries  bend  the  vine, 
Lucid  grapes  at  diftance  ihine  ; 
Here  the  velvet  peach,  and  there 
Apples,  and  the  pendant,  pear. . 

DELIA,, 

View  this  maple,  from  whofe  .wound : 
Honey  trickles  on  the  ground: 
Who  thefe  luxuries  can  tafte. 
Thanklefs  of.  the  rich  repaft? 

LUCIA,- 

*  Defigned  for  the  ufe  of  her  daughter  and  niece  .when  very 
young. 


POETICS, 
LUCIA. 

Delta,  I  could  fit  all  day 
LiiVning  to  your  grateful  lay  ^ 
But  now  folar  beams  invade, 
Let  us  feek  a  clofer  fh.ide. 


HOPE  ar'ifingfrom  RETROSPECTION, 

JLjLLAS  !   my  fond  enquiring  foul, 

Doom'd  in  fufpence  to  mourn  ; 
Now  let  thy  moments  calmly  roll, 

Now  let  thy  peace  return. 

Why  fhould'ft  thou  let  a  doubt  difturb 

Thy  hopes,  which  daily  rife, 
And  urge  thee  on  to  truft  his  word 

Who  built  and  rules  the  Ikies  ? 

Look  back  thro'  what  intricate  ways 

He  led  thy  unfriended  feet ; 
Oft  mourning  in  the  cheerlefs  maze, 

He  ne'er  forfook  thee  yet. 

When  thunder  from  heav'n's  arch  did  break, 

And  cleft  the  fmkingy#//>, 
His  mercy  fnatch'd  thee  from  the  wreck, 

And  from  the  rolling  deep  ; 

And 


%$$  FOE  Tier. 

And  &T&S& Bifeafi,  with  threat'ning 

Aini'd  at  thy  trembling  hearf, 
Again  his  mercy  intervened, 

And  turn'd  afide  the  dart. 

Whefl  Murder  fent  net  hopelefs  cries 

More  dreadful  thro'  the  gloom, 
And  kindling  flames  did  round  thee  rife, 

Deep  harvefts  to  confume  j 

Who  was  it  led  thee  thro'  the  wood 

And  o'er  th'  enfanguin'd  plain, 
Unfeen  by  ambufh'd  fons  of  blood,v 

Who  track'd  thy  fteps  in  vain? 

'Twas  pitying  heav'n  that  check'd  my  tears,  . 

And  bade  my  infants  play, 
To  give  an  opiate  to  my  fears,. 

And  cheer  the  lonely  way. 

And  in  the  doubly  dreadful  night 

When  my  Abella  died, 
When  horror  fl ruck — detefling  light! 

I  funk  down  by  her  fide : 

When  wing'd  for  flight  my  fpirit  flood, 

With  this  fond  thought  beguil'd, 
To    lead  my  charmer  to  her  God, 

And  there  to  claim-  my  child  j. 

Again 


POETICS. 

'Again  his  mercy  o'er  my  breaft 
EfFus'd  the  breath  of  peace ; 

Subfiding  paflions  funk  to  reft, 
He  bade  the  tempeft  ceafe. 

Oh !  let  me  ever,  ever  praife 

Such  undeferved  care  ; 
Tho'  languid  may  appear  my  lays. 

At  leaft  they  are  iincere. 

I  never  will  diftruft  thee  more, 

Tho'  hell  fhould  aim  her  dart ; 
.  Innoxious  is  infernal  pow'r, 
If  thou  Prote6tor  art. 

It  is  my  joy  that  thou  art  God, 
Eternal,  and  fupreme — 

Rife  Nature!  hail  the -power  aloud, 
From  whom  creation  came. 


On  feeing  Mifs  S.  T.  E.  cr  offing  the  Hudfon* 


Ti 


IS  {he,  upon  the  fapphire  flood^ 
Whofe  charms  the  world  furprife, 
Whofe  praifes,  chanted  in  the  wood, 
.Are  wafted  to  the  ikies, 

To 


POETICS. 

To  view  the  heaven  of  her  eyes, 
Where'er  the  light  barque  moves, 

The  green  hairM  lifters,  fmiling,  rife 
From  out  their  fea-girt  groves. 

E'en  Neptune  quits  his  glafly  caves, 
And  calls  out  from  afar, 

•  So  Venus  lobk'd,  when  o'er  the  waves 

*  She  drove  her  pearly  car.' 

He  bids  the  winds  to  caves  retreat, 
And  there  confin'd  to  roar : 

•  But  here,'  faid  he,  '  forbear  to  breathe, 

*  *TillSnJan  comes  on  fhore.' 

To  Mifs  M.  V.  W. 

JL  EGGY,  amidft  domeftic  cares  to  rhyme 
I  find  no  pleafure,  and  I  find  no  time ; 
But  then,  a  Poetefs,  you  may  fuppofe, 
Can  better  tell  her  mind  in  verfe  than  profe: 
True — when  ferenely  all  our  moments  roll, 
Then  numbers  flow  fpontaneous  from  the  foul : 
Not  when  the  mind  is  harraffed  by  cares, 
Or  ftunn'd  with  thunders  of  inteftine  wars, 
Or  circled  by  a  noify,  vulgar  throng, 

(Noife  ever  was  an  enemy  to  fong.) 

What 


POETICS.  241 

What  tlio'  the  fpiral  pines  around  us  rife, 
And  airy  mountains  intercept  the  Ikies, 
Faction  has  chac'd  away  the  warbling  Mufc, 
And  Echo  only  learns  to  tattle  news  ; 
Each  clown  commences  politician  here, 
And  calculates  th'  expences  of  the  year ; 
He  quits  his  plow,  and  throws  afide  his  fpade, 
To  talk  with  '/quire  about  decreafe  of  trade : 
His  tedious'fpoufe  detains  me  in  her  turn, 
;  Condemns   our  meafures    and  negle&s    her 

churn. 

Scarce  can  I  fteal  a  moment  from  the  wars 
To  read  my  Bible,  or  to  fay  my  pray'rs  : 
Oh  !  how  I  long  to  fee  thofe  halcyon  days 
When  Peace  again  extends  to  us  her  rays, 
When  each,  beneath  his  vine,  and  far  from 

fear, 

Shall  beat  his  fword  into  a. laboring  {hare* 
Then  fhall  the  rural  arts  again  revive, 
Ceres  fhall  bid  the  famifh'd  ruftic  live  : 
Where  now  the  yells  of  painted  fons  of  blood 
With  long  vibrations  {hake  the  lonely  wood, 
All  defolate,  Pomona  fhall  behold 
The 'branches  moot  with  vegetable  gold; 
Beyond  the  peafant's  fight  the  fpringing  grain 
Shall  wave  around  him  o'er  the  ample  plain  ; 
Y  N« 


POETICS. 

-A 

No  engines  then  iliall  bellow  o'er  the  waves* 
And  fright  blue  Thetis  in  her  coral  caves, 
But  commerce  gliding  o'er  the  curling  feas, 
Shall  bind  the  fever'd  fhoresjn  ties  of  peace. 

Then  WASHINGTON, reclining  on  his  fpear, 
Shall  take  a  refpite  from  laborious  war, 
While  Glory  on  his  brows  with  awful  grace 
Binds  a  tiara  of  refplendent  rays. 
How  faint  the  luftre  of  imperial  gems 
To  this  immortal  wreath  his  merit  claims  ! 
See  from  the  north,  where  icy  mountains  rife, 
Down  to  the  placid  -climes  of  fouthern  fides, 
All  hail  the  day  that  bids  ftern  difcord  ceafe, 
./^//hail  the  day  which  gives-the  warrior  peace  : 
Hark  !  the  glad  nations  make  a  joyful  noife  ! 
And  the  loud  fhouts  are  anfwer'd  from  the  fkies ; 
Fame  fwells  the  found  wrapt  in  her  hero's 

praife, 
And  darts  his  fplendors  down  to  lateft  days. 


•To  Mrs.  D- 


D 


EAR  Bctfey  now  Pkafure  the  woodland 

has  left, 

Nor  more  in  the  water  fhe  laves, 
Since  winter  the  trees  of  their  bloom  has  bereft, 
And  Iliffen'd  to  cryftal  the  waves. 

Now 


POETICS.  243 

Now  clad  all  in  fur  our  guefl  me  appears, 
By  the  fire-fide  a  merry  young  grig  ; 

She  poursout  the  wine,  our  penfivenefs cheers,, 
And  at  night  leads  us  out  to  a  jig. 

Then  venture  among  the  tall  pines  if  you  dareP 
Encounter  the  keen  arctic  wind ; 

Dare  this  for  to  meet  with  affection  fmcere, 
And  Plcafure  untainted  you'll  find. 

I  know  you  have  Plcafure,  my  fifler,  by  whiles, 
But  then  me  appears  in  great  ftate  ; 

She  is  hard  of  accefs,  and  lofty  her  fmiles, 
While  Envy  and  Pride  on  her  wait. 

Thro'  drawing  rooms^  Betfey,  you'll  chafe  her 
in  vain, 

The  Colonel  may  feek  her  in  blood; 
The  Poets  agree  (and  they  cannot  all  feign) 

That  flic's  born  and  rtjides  in  the  wood. 

On  a  great  COXCOMB  recovering  from  an 
Indifpojition. 

NARCISSUS  (as  Ovid  informs  us)  expir'd, 

Confum'd  by  the  flames  his  own  beauty  had  fir'd; 

Y  2  But 


244  POETICS. 

But  N—s  (who  like  him  is  charm'd  with  his 

face, 

And  fighs  for  his  other  fair-felf  in  the  glafs) 
Loves  to  greater  excefs  than  Narciflus — for 

why  ? 
He  loves  himfelf  too  much  to  let  himfelf  die. 


An  EVENING  PROSPECT. 

V>OME  my  Sufan,  quit  your  chamber  ? 

Greet  the  op'ning  bloom  of  May^ 
Let  us  on  yon  hillock  clamber, 

And  around  the  feene  fupvey. 

See  the  fun  is  now  defcending^ 

And  projects  his  fhadows  far, 
And  the  bee  her  courfe  is  bending 

Homeward  thro'  the  humid  air. 

Mark  the  //sar/afjuft  before  us, 

Singing  her  unvaried  flrain, 
While  the/ro^,  abrupt  in  chorus, 

Deepens  thro*  the  marihy  plain. 

From  yon  grove  the  woodcock  rifes, 
Mark  her  progrefs  by  her  notes, 

High  in  air  her  wings  me  poifes, 

Then  like  lightning  down  fh«  flioots. 

Now 


POETICS.  24J 

Now  the  ivhip-o-well  beginning, 

Clam'rous  on  a  pointed  rail, 
Drowns  the  more  melodious  fmging 

Of  the  cat-bird,  thru/It  ^  and  quail. 

Penfive  Echo,  from  the  mountain, 

Still  repeats  the  fylvan  founds, 
And  the  crocus  border'd  fountain, 

With  the  fplendid  fly  abounds, 

There  the  honeyfuckle  blooming, 

Reddens  the  capricious  wave ; 
Richer  fweets— the  air  perfuming, 

Spicy  Ceylon  never  gave. 

Caft  your  eyes  beyond  this  rneadow? 

Painted  by  a  hand  divine, 
And  obferve  the  ample  fliadow 

Of  that'folemn  ridge  of  pine. - 

Here  a  trickling  rill  depending,' 

Glitters  thro'  the  artlefs  bow'r; 
And  the  filver  dew  defcending, 

Doubly  radiates  every  flow' r. 

While  I  fpeak,  the  fan  is  vanifli'd, 

All 'the  gilded  clouds  are  fled, 
Mulic  from  the  groves  is  banifh'd, 

Noxious  vapours  round  us  fpreadr 

Y  3  Rural 


POETICS. 

Rural  toil  is  now  fufpended, 
Sleep  invades  the  peafant's  eyes, 

Each  diurnal  talk  is  ended, 
While  foft  Luna  climbs  the 

Queen  of  reft  and  meditation, 
Thro'  thy  medium  I  adore 

Him — the  Author  of  Creation, 
Infinite,  and  boundlefs  pow?n 

Tis  he  whcr  fills  thy  urn  with  glory, 
Tranfcript  of  immortal  light ; 

Lord !  my  fpirit  bows  before  thee, 
Loft  in  wonder  and  delight. 


A  HTMN. 


O 


'MNICIENT  and  eternal  God, 
Who  hear'ft  the  fainteft  pray'r 
Diftinct  as  Hallelujahs  loud, 
Which  round  thee  hymned  are. 

Here,  far  from  all  the  world  retir'd, 

I  humbly  bow  the  knee, 
And  wim,   (as  I  have  long  defir'cl,) 

An,  intercft  in  thee. 


But 


But  my  revolting  heart  recede? 

And  rumes  to  the  croud  ; 
My  paflions  ftop  their  ears  and  lead, 

Tho'  confcience  warns  aloud*. 

How  deeply  finful  is  my  mind  ?•. 

To  every  ill  how  prone  ? 
How  ftubborn  my  dead  heart  I  find 

Infenfible  as  ftone?. 

The  hardeft  marble  yet  will  break,. 

Nor  will  refift  they?^/; 
But  neither  wrath  nor  love  can  maka. 

My  flinty  bofora.feeL, 

My  paflions  like  a  torrent  roar^ 
And  tumbling  to  hell's  glooms^, 

Sweep  me  away  from  Reafon's  fhore? 
To  '*  where  /ft.  never  comes/"* 


By  labour  turn'd'theufelefs  ftream 

Thro'  fertile  vales  has  play'd  ;  , 
But  for  to  change  the  courfe-of  fin. 

Demands  immortal.aid* 

All  nature  pays  the  homage  due 

To  the  fupremely  bleft  ; 
All  but  the  favour'd  being  who 

Was  filac'd  above  the  reft- 

He 


POETICS. 

He  bids  the  teeming  earth  to  bear, 

The  bluming  flow'rs  arife ; 
At  his  command  the  fun  appears 

And  warms  the  orient  ikies. 

Oh !  was  I  but  fome  plant  or  ftar, 

I  might  obey  him  too ; 
Nor  longer  with  the  Being  war, 

From  whom  my  breath  I  drew. 

Change  me,  oh  God !  with  ardent  cries 

I'll  venture  to  thy  feat ; 
And  if  I  perifh,  hell  mufl  rife 

And  tear  me  from  thy  feet. 


Mifs  BRINCKERHOFF,    on   her 

New-Tork. 


when  the  fouthern  gale 
Expands  the  broad  majeftic  fail, 
While  Friendship  breathes  the  parting  fighj, 
And  forrow  glitters  in  each  eye, 
The  vefTel  leaves  the  flying  fhores, 
Receding  fpires  and  lefs'ning  tow'rs  ; 
And  as  it  craves  the  lucid  fea, 
The-diftant  tumult  dies  away: 


FOE  TICS.  249, 

Then  penfive  as  the  deck  you  quit, 
Careffmg  fable  rob'd  regret, 
Indulging  every  rifing  fear, 
And  urging  on  the  pendant  tear, 
While  Recolle&ion's  flattering  eye 
Your  former  pleafures  magnify ; 
Then  (hall  your  guardian  fpirit  fmile, 
Rejoic'd  that  Fate  rewards  his  toil  ; 
And  as  he  mounts  on  serial  wing, 
Thus  to  his  kindred  angels  fmg : 

*  Hail,  happy  hour  that  fnatch'd  my  fair 

*  To  aether  pure,  from  city  air, 

*  Where  Vice  triumphant  lifts  her  head 

*  And  hifTes  Virtue  to  the  {hade ; 

1  Where  'Temperance  vacates  each  feaft  ; 
'  Where  Piety  is  grown  a  jeft  \. 

*  Where  Flat  fry,  drefs'd  in  robes  of  truth* 

*  Inculcates  pride  in  heedlefs  youth  ; 

*  Where  off  with-  folded  wings  I  fpy 

*  The  torpid  foul  inactive  liey  * 

c  Shut  up  in  fenfe,  forbid  to  rear 
Her  plume  beyond  our  atmofphere. 
1  How  Jlefs'd  my  charge,  whom  gentler  fate 

*  Leads  early  to  the  green  retreat, 

*•  Where  every  object  thoughts  infpire 
Exalted  to  feraphic  fire  j. 

6  And 


$50  POETICS. 

1  And  where  the  fpeculative  mind 

*  Expatiates  free  and  unconrm'd  ; 

*  There  furely  I  {hall  find  accefs 

*  To  cherim  ev'ry  budding  grace, 

*  Enlarging  ftill  each  nobler  pow'r, 

*  Till  active,  like  myfelf  they  foar. 

*  And  when  my  pupil  learns  her  worth, 

*  She'll  feel  a  juft  contempt  for  earth, 
e  And  fix  her  elevated  fight 

*  Alone  on  primogenial  light : 

'•  Nor  fliall  her  charms  external  fade, 
6  But  bloom  and  brighten  in  the  (hade ; 

*  While  innate  graces  ftill  fliall  rife, 

*•  And  dart  their  radiance  thro'  her  eyes.* 

To.  JULIA  AMANDA. 

JL   AIR  Julia  Amanda,  now  fmce  it  is  peace'r 
Methinks  yourhoftilities  alfo  ihould  ceafe  ; 
The  iliafts  from  your  eyes,  and  the  mares  of 

your  fmile, 

Should  ceafe— or  at  lead  be  fufpended  awhile  : 
'Tis  cruel  to  point  your  artillery  of  charms 
Againft  the  poor  lads  who  have  laid  down  their 

arms. 

The 


POETICS. 

The  Cons  of  Bellona  who  Brkaln  defies, 
Altho'  bullet  proof,  muft  they  fall  by  your  eyes  ? 
la  vain  have  they  bled,  they  have  conquer'd  in 

vain, 

If  returning  in  triumph,  they  yield  to  your  chain. 
For  fhame  !  in  the  olive's  falubrious  fhade 
Your  murders  reitrain,  and  let  peace  be  obey  M  ; 
Since  Europe  negociates,  alter  your  carriage, 
While  they  treat  of  peace,  make  a  treaty  of 
marriage. 


PEACE. 

ZlLLL  hail  vernal  Phoebus!  all  hail  ye  foft 

breezes  ! 

Announcing  the  vifit  of  fpring  ; 
How  green  are  the  meadows  !  the  air  how  it 

pleafes! 
How  gleefully  all  the  birds  fing  ! 

Begone  ye  rudetempefts,  nor  trouble  the  sether, 
Nor  let  bluming  Flora  complain, 

While  her  pencil  was  tinging  the  tulip,  bad 

weather 
Hadblafted  the  promiiing  gem, 

Froiaa 


252  POETTC-S. 

F remits  verdant  unfoldings,  the  timid  narciflus 

Now  fhoots  out  a  diffident  bud ; 
Begone  ye  rude  iempefts,  for  fure  as  it  freezes 

Ye  kill  this  bright  child  of  the  wood : 

And  Peace  gives  new  charms  to  the  bright 

beaming  feafon ; 

"The  groves  we  now  fafely  explore 
Where  murd'ring  banditti,  the  dark  fons  of 

treafon, 
Were  fhelter'd  and  aw'd  as  'before. 

The  fwain  with  his  oxen,proceeds  to  the  valley 
Whofe  feven  years  fabbath  concludes, 

Andbleffes  kind  heaven, that  Britain 's  black  ally- 
Is  chasM  to  Canadians  deep  woods. 

And  Echo  no  longer  is  plaintively  mourning, 

But  laughs  and  is  jocund  as  we ; 
And  the  turtle  ey'd  nymphs,  to  their  cots  all 
returning, 

Carve  «  WASHINGTON,'  on  every  tree. 

FIl  wander  along  by  the  fide  of  yon  fountain, 

And  drop  in  its  current  the  line, 
To  capture  the  glittering  fiih  that  there  wanton; 

Ah,  no !  'tis  an  evil  defign. 

Sport 


POETICS. 

Sport  on  little  fifties,  your  lives  are  a  treafure 
Which  I  can  deftroy,  but  not  give ; 

Methinks  it's  at  beft  a  malevolent  pleafure 
To  bid  a  poor  being  not  live. 

How  lucid  the  water  !  its  foft  undulations 
Are  changeably  ting'd  by  die  light ; 

It  reflects  the  green  banks,  and  by  fair  imitations 
Prefents  a  new  heaven  to  fight. 

The  butterfly  fldms  o'er  its  furface,  all  gilded 
With  plumage  juft  dipt  in  rich  dies ; 

But  yon  infant  has  feiz'd  the  poor  infect,  ah  \ 

yield  it ; 
There,  fee  the  freed  bird  how  it  lies ! 

But  whither  am  I  and  my  little  dog  flraying  ? 

Too  far  from  our  cottage  we  roam ; 
The  dews  are  already  exhaFd;  ceafe  your 
playing, 

Come,  Daphne,  come  let  us  go  home. 

A  PASTORAL  DIALOGUE. 

SCENE TOMHANICK.  1780. 

SUSANNA. 

Xl/LIZA,  rife,  the  orient  glows  with  day, 
Already  Phoffhw  darts  his  amber  ray ; 

Z  The 


FOE  TICS. 

The  fainting  planets  vanifh  from  the  Ikies, 
Diftindt  ajready  all  the  profpe6h  rife  ; 
Begin  our  walk,  but  cheer  the  lonely  way 
With  mufic,  previous  to  the  fwallow's  lay. 

ELIZA. 

My  fifter,  ceafe,  thefe  hoftile  fhades  refufe 
Admiflionto  the  lute  or  peaceful  Mufe; 
Lo  !  the  broad  ftandard  fhades  the  fiow'ry  plain, 
Nor,  crooks  (but  mufquets)  arm  the. awkward 

fwam ; 

Death's  heavy  engines  thunder  thro'  the  vale, 
And  Echo  but  retorts  the  favage  yell ; 
From  undifiembled  grief  my  numbers  flow, 
And  few  the  graces  that  attend  on  woe. 

SUSANNA. 

Yet  fmg — e'en  woe  a  pleafure  can  impart, 
When  fweetly  warbled,  or  if  told  with  art. 

ELIZA. 

-  Columbia  refcued  from  barbaric  pow'rs, 
Drew  all  the  fons  of  want  unto  her  fhores ; 
The  indigent,  th'  oppreft,  a  fighing  hoft, 
And  wretches  exil'd  from  their  native  coaft ; 
For  whom  European  affluence  could  not  fpare 
A  frugal  morfel, , pining  Want  to  cheer; 
Hither  repaired,  and  with  inceflant  toil 
FelVd  the  tall  trees  from  the  incumber'd  foil: 

From 


POET  1C  5. 

From  the  low  cottage  now  recede  the  oaks, 
The  fore  ft  anfwers  to  the  woodman's  flrokes  ; 
Hard  was  the  toil,  but  amply  (foon)  repaid 
By  golden  harvefts,  which  the  valleys  fhade; 
Vertumnes  added  to  his  native  ftores 
Exotic  fruits,  and  Flora  planted  flow'rs: 
Then  temples  rofe,  the  harbours  open'd  wide; 
And  wealthy  Ihips  flow'd  in  with  every  tide. 
Thus  rich  and  happy,  virtue  made  them  gayj 
And  hard  got  Freedom- bled  each  cheerful  day  ; 
By  induftry  thofe  bleflings  they  obtain'd, 
And  learn'd  to  value  what  they  dearly  gain'd* 
—Americans  !   ye  thought  your  labours  o'er, 
Ah  no  !  the  hydra  Envy  brings  you  more. 
Now  c  a  ft  thine  eyes  o'er-the  Cerulian  Main,. 
See  George confpicuous  by  his  bloody  reign; 
Hard  by  Opprejfion's  iron  -chair  is  feen, 
Where  menacing  (lie  fits  with  threat'ning  meirr; 
Still  as  the  monarch  fmiles,  and  to  her  turns, 
Sad  Freedom  trembles — all  the  people  mourns. 

*  Art  thou  indeed  a  king,'  the  fury  cries, 
'•And  fee'ft  thyfubjeffs  all  like  rivals  rife  ? 

*  A  land  of  princes,  opulent  and  proud, 

*•  Scarce  thou  thyfelf  diftinguiih'd  from  the 
croud : 

Z  2  <  Reduce 


256  POETICS. 

'  Reduce  their  fumlefs {tores,  their  pow'r  with* 

ft  and, 
'  Kings  were  not  made  to  ajk^  but  to  command: 

*  See  the  licentious  land  by  riot  rent, 

6  Say,  what  but  fear  can  keep  the  flaves  content  ? 
6  Soon  thy  rich  rival  on  th'  Atlantic  ihore 

*  Will  {born  to  afk  thy  aid,  or  own  thy  pow'r : 
'  Then  bow  thy  fceptre  heavy  o'er  the  waves, 

*  Thy  fafety  urges,  and  they  mud  be  flaves ; 
6  Reftri<£i:  their  trade,  feverer  laws  invent, 

'  And  to  inforce  them  be  thy  armies  fent. 
Ah  fimple  prince  !  learn  but  the  eafier  arts, 
With  rnildeft  fway  to  rule  thy  people's  hearts ; 
Firm  as  the  centre  then  thy  throne  mould  ftand, 
Rever'd  and  guarded  by  a  grateful  land. 

Columbia  weeps,  (lie kneels  before  the  throne, 
Butplaints,  and  tears,  andfighs,  avail  her  none ; 
One  fad  alternative  alone  remains, 
The  woes  of  war,  or  elfe  the  tyrant's  chains. 

This,   Virtue  from  the  weftern  mountains 
heard, 

*  Be  calm,  my  fons,'  fhe  cried,  *  I  am  your 

guard  ; 

*  But  if  th'  ambitious  homocide  fhall  dare 
*•  To  pour  acrofs  the  feas  the  tide  of  war, 


POETICS,  2^7 

1  Arm,  arm  in  hafte !   'tis  heav  Vs  and  free 
dom's  caufe  !' 

Confenting  nations  echoed  loud  applaufe. 
Now  Britain's  marine  thunders  ihake  the 

ground, 

New  Albian's  ftruiShires  fall  in  ruins  round; 
The  mournful  fires  extend  along  the  ftrand, 
And  ocean  bluflies  as  the  fires  expand  ; 
The  flames  ftill  rife,  till  quench'd  with  human 

blood, 

The  fanguine  ilream  commixes  with  the  flood ; 
Then  ocean  blumes  deeper  dill  with  gore, 
And  Defolatlon  fhrieks  along  the  fhore : 
Nor  do  her  coafls  alone  the  fury  feel, 
Deep  in  her  forefh  gleams  the  deadly  fteel ; 
Britannia* s  ally,  from  his  dark  recefs, 
With  fell  intent  invades  the  fhades  of  Peace. 
See  the  low  cot  with  ivy  cover'd  o'er, 
Where  age  and  youth  fit  fmiling  at  the  door; 
The  virgin  carols  on  the  dufty  road, 
And  fprightly  mufic  nils  the  vocal  wood: 
Calm  are  the  fkies,  the  dewy  poppies  blow, 
Nor  man,  nor  beaft  is  confcious  of  a  foe: 
Swift,  like  a  hurricane  deft  ruction  flies, 
The  cottage  blazes,  and  its  owner  dies. 

Z  3  Look 


POETICS. 

Look  from  this  point,  where  op'ning  glades 

reveal 

The  glafly  Hudfon  friining  'twixt  the  hills ; 
There  many  a  flructure  drefs'd  the  (leepy  more, 
And  all  beyond  were  daily  rifing  more : 
The  bending  trees  with  annual  fruit  did  fmile, 
Each  harveft  fure,  for  fertile  is  the  foil : 
Nor  need  the  peafant  immolate  his  ox, 
Nor  hunger  prefs  him  to  decreafe  his  flocks ; 
The  {lately  flag  a  richer  feail  fupplies, 
The  river  brings  him  rim  of  various  fize ; 
With  water  fowl  his  filver  lakes  abound, 
And  honey  gullies  from  the  maple's  wound. 

Autumnal  fliow'rs  attemper'd  Phoebus'  rayr 
The  blooming  meads  with  deep'ning  green 

were  gay, 

The  birds  were  cheerful,  nor  the  rufticlefs, 
Joy  on  his  cheek,  and  in  his  bofom  peace  ; 
Down  ruih'd  the  tawny  natives  from  the  hill, 
And  every  place  with  fire  and  murder  rill ; 
Arm'd  with  the  hatchet  and  a  flaming  brand, 
They  foon  reverfe  the  afpecl:  of  the  land  : 
Obferve,  Sufnnna,  not  a  bird  is  there, 
The  tall  burnt  trees  rife  mournful  in  the  air,. 
Nor  man  nor  beail  the  fmoking  ruins  explores, 
And  Hudfon  flows  more  folemn  by  thofe  mores. 

But 


POETICS.  259: 

But  ah !  I  fee  thee  turn  away  and  mourn, 
Thy  feeling  heart  with  filent  anguiih  torn ; 
Cheerup,  tho'  long  and  dark  has  been  our  night, 
The  deepeft  fhades  precede  the  morning  light ; 
And  when  I  recollect  our  heavenly  aid, 
Hope  flufties  round  and  diffipates  the  fliade ; 
He  who  reveng'd  the  blood  of  Abel  fpilt 
Has  thunders  fure  for  more  extenfive  guilt ; 
Nor  can  we  doubt,  when  horrors  round  us  clos'd 
His  obvious  arm  how  lately  interpos'd,  . 
To  render  Britain's  northern  phalanx*  vain, 
To  blaft  the  traitor  rf  and  defeat  his  plan. 

For  what  conteft  we  ?  is  it  thirft  of  gain, 
Or  thirft  of  blood  that  fills  the  land  with  {lain  ? 
Ah,  no  !  tenacious  of  the  gift  of  God 
We  would  defend  our  Freedom  with  our  blood ; 
She  arms  our  fons,^?  bids  them  nobly  dare, 
And  calls  on  Conqueft  to  decide  the  war: 
What  tho'  the  Goddefs  ftill  defers  the  blow, 
Her  arm  fhall  foon  repel  th'  invading  foe  ; 
Her  arm  unfurl  our  ftarry  flandard  wide, 
For  Conqucft  loves  to  be  on  Fr eedonCs  fide. 
Then  let  the  difappointed  navy  fly, 
Curling  the  winds  and  inaufpicious  fky, 
While  acclamations  fill  the  region  round, 
And  from  their  hollow  fhips  loud  iliouts  rebound. 
*  BURGOYNE'S  army.  -f  ARNOID. 

RETURN 


z6o  POETICS. 


RETURN  TO  TOMHANICK. 

JflAIL,  happy  {hades!  tho' chd  with  heavy 

fnows, 

At  fight  of  you  with  joy  my  bofom  glows  ; 
Ye  arching  pines,  that  bow  with  every  breeze, 
Ye  poplars,  elms,  all  hail  my  well-known  trees  ! 
And" now  my  peaceful  man/ion  ftrikes  my  eye, 
And  now  the  tinkling  rivulet  I  fpy ; 
My  tittle  garden  Flora  haft  thou  kept, 
And  watch'd  my  pinks  and  lilies  while  I  wept  ? 
Or  has  the  grubbing  fivine,  by  furies  led., 
Th'  inclofure  broke,  and  on  my  flowrets  fed  ? 
Ah  me !    that  fpot  with  blooms  fo  lately 

grac'd, 

With  ftorms  and  driving  fnows  isnow  defac'd ; 
Sharp  icicles  from  ev'ry  bum  depend, 
Andfrofls  all  dazzling  o'er  the  beds  extend: 
Yet  foon  fair  Spring  mail  give  another  feene, 
And  yellow  cowjlips  gild  the  level  green  ; 
My.  little  orchard  fprouting  at  each  bough, 
Fragrant  with  cluft'ring  blofToms  deep  ihali 

glow ; , 

AhL 


?OETICS.  261, 

.Ah  !  then  'tis  fweet  the  tufted grafs  to  tread, 
But  fweeter  fl  umb'ring  in  the  balmy  (hade  ; 
The  rapid  humming  bird,  with  ruby  bread, 
Seeks  the  parterre  with  early  blue  bells  dreft, 
Drinks  deep  the  honeyfuckle  dew,  or  drives 
The  lab'ring.bee  to  her  domeftic  hives  : 
Then  Ihines  the  lupin  bright  with  morning  gems,. 
And  fleepy  poppies  nod  upon  their  (terns ; 
The  humble  violet  and  the  dulcet  rofe, 
The  {lately  lily  then,  and  tulip  blows. 

Farewell  my  Plutarch!    farewell  pen  and, 

Mufe! 

Nature  exults — (hall  I  her,  call  refufe  ? 
Jpollo  fervid  glitters  in  my  face, 
And  threatens  with  his  beam  each  feeble  grace  ::• 
Yet  ftill  around:  the  lovely  plants  I  toil, 
And  draw  obnoxious  herbage  from  the  foil ;, 
Or  with  the  lime-twigs  little  birds  furprife, 
Or  angle  for  the  trout  of  many  dyes. 

But  when  the  vernal  breezes  pafs  away, 
And  loftier  Phoebus  darts  a  fiercer  ray, 
The  fpiky  corn  then  rattles  all  around, 
And  darning  cafcades  give  a  pleafing  found  ; 
Shrill  fings  the  locuft  with  prolonged  note, 
The  cricket  chirps  familiar  in  each  cot, 


262  •  POETICS. 

The  village  children,  rambling  o'er  yon  hi!!, 
With  berries  all  their  painted  baikets  fill, 
They  rob  the  fqirrels  little  walnut  flore, 
And  climb  the  half  exhaufted  tree  for  more  -y 
Or  elfe.to  fields  of  maize  no&urnal  hie, 
Where  hid,  th'  elufive  water-melons  lie ; 
Sportive,  they  make  incifions  in  the  rindy 
The  riper  from  the  immature  to  find ;  . 
Then  load  their  tender  fhoulders  with  the  prey, 
Aad  laughing  bear  the  bulky  fruit  away. 


'E  S  S  A  Y  S, 


-PROSE    AND    VERSE. 


MARGARETTA  V.  FAUGERES, 


ESSAYS. 


BENEFITS  OF  SCOLDING, 

1790- 

J.  HAVE  often  wondered  that  amongft  the 
numbers  who  write  for  the  edification  of  the 
public,  no  one  has  ever  thought  fit  to  expatiate 
upon  the  Benefits  of  Scolding ;  nor  can  I  con 
ceive  why  an  art,  whofe  origin  we  may  trace 
in  years  before  the  flood,  and  which  is  fo  much 
in  ufe  among  the  moderns,  ihould  be  difre- 
garded  by  writers. 

It  is  an  ancient  art,  and  I  am  perfuaded  a 
very  beneficial  one,  not  only  to  individuals* 
fuch  as  hufbands,  wives,  children,  and  fer- 
vants,  but  to  the  community  at  large.  Schools, 
in  particular,  are  much  indebted  to  it ;  and 
though  they  may  not  acknowledge  it,  not 
think  it  merits  an  eulogy  from  their  pens,  yet 
the  flourishing  ftate  of  many  of  our  feminaries 
fpeaks  loudly  in  its  favour.  People  in  general 
would  rather  fufFer  corporeal  punimment  than 
A  a  be 


•£66  BENEFITS  OF  SCOLDING. 

be  lectured  upon  their  faults ;  rand  I  have 
known  many  who  did  not  mind  the  rod  to  be 
deterred  from  a  continuance  of  their  follies, 
merely  by  the  lafhes  of  the  tongue. 

A  fcolding.  officer  has  often  made  his  fubal- 
terns  as  angry  ,as  hornets  in  an  engagement; 
and  a  coward,  when  enraged,  will  fight  mofl 
courageoufly.  perhaps  he  might  have  called 
them  cowards  in  his  ill-humour,  and  they, 
out  of  fpite,  have  exerted  themfelves  and  per 
formed  wonders,  which,  had  their  leader  been 
a  tame,  peaceable  creature,  they  would  have 
looked  upon  as  impracticable :  and  we  know  an 
able  politician,  .when  a  motion  was  made  in 
the  houfe  of  which  he  was  a  member,  preju- 
.dicial  to  the  ftate  which  he  lived  in,  who  not 
only  fcolded  the  houfe  out  of  countenance,  but 
out  of  the  motion  too?  and  made  them  lay  it 
by  for  years. 

The  fpoufe  of  SOCRATES  was  of  a  turbu 
lent  temper,  which  made  his  friends  pity  him 
much;  but  SOCRATES  was  a  wife  man,  and 
well  knowing  the  utility  of  fcolding,  told 
them,  that  fhe  taught  him  patiently  to  put  up 
rmmours  of  other  men. 

:  Scolding 


BENEFITS  OF  SCOLDING.  a6f 

Scolding  is  not  only  good  for  the  mind  but 
the  body  too.  It  makes  refpiration  more  free,- 
and  cures  colds ;  and  by  promoting  peripiration,- 
has  been  known  to  remove  complaints  of  long, 
(landing,  Let  the  following  account  fpeak 
for  it: — 

A  lady  of  my  acquaintance  was  in  a  very 
ill  ftate  of  health  fome  time  ago,  as  every 
body  thought  in  a  confumption  ;  but  one  day 
(as  the  Doctors  were  fitting  by  her)  luckily 
fomething  went  wrong,  and  the  poor  invalid 
forgetting  her  reduced  fituation,  gave  vent  to 
her  feelings,  and  fcolded  moft  eloquently, 
and  difplayed  her  talents  in  fuch  a  manner  as 
rectified  the  raiftake,  brought  on  a  profufe 
perfpiration,  and  greatly  relieved  her.  The 
benefits  arifmg  from  fuch  proceedings  were 
more  than  me  could  have  expected ;  me, 
however,  repeated  it  with  the  fame  fuccefs, 
and  is  now  a  hearty  woman. 

But  fome  may  be  apt  to  inquire,  "  If  this  is 
true,  might  not  people  live  for  ever  were  they 
to  keep  on  fcolding  ?"  No  one,  I  believe,  has 
ever  yet  made  the  experiment,  nor  mould  I 
dare  wifh  to  propagate  fuch  an  opinion  ;  but 
this  I  know,  that  almoft  all  fcolds  live  to  be 
A  a  2  Pretty, 


FINE  FEELINGS  IN  A  NEGRu. 

pretty  old,   nor  do  I  remember  ever  to  have 
heard  of  a"  peribn  who  died  fcolding. 

-My  fcolding  abilities  are  at  prefent  very- 
lender,  but  there  is  room  for  improvement ; 
and  it  is  probable,  if  I  ihould  make  any  cort- 
ilderable  proficiency  in  that  fcience,  I  may- 
favour  the  public  with  a  fpecimen. 


PINE  FEELINGS 

Exemplified  in  the  Conduft  of  a  Negro 


TVT 

J.NO 


TWITHSTANDING  what  the  learned 
Mr.  JEFFERSON  has  faid  refpec~ting  the  want 
ef  finer  feelings  in  the  blacks,  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  their  fenfations,  mental  and  ex 
ternal,  are  as  acute  as  thofe  of  the  people  whofe 
ikin  may  be  of  a  different  colour  ;  fach  an  af- 
fertion  may  feem-  bold,  but  fa6rs  are  flubborn 
things,  and  had  I  not  them  to  fupport  me,  it 
is  probable  I  ihould  not  attempt  to  oppofe  the 
©pinions  of  fuch  an  eminent  reafoner. 

In  the  interior  parts  of  this  ftate  lived  (a 
few  years  ago)  a  man  of  property,  who  owned 
a  number  of  blacks  ;  but  formed  in  Nature's 

moil, 


FINE  FEELINGS  IN  A  NEGRO.         269 

mofl  favage  mould,  his  chief  employment  was 
inventing  puniihments  for  his  unfortunate  de 
pendants,  and  his  principal  delight  in  pradlif- 
ing  the  tortures  he  had  invented.  Among  the 
number  of  his  (laves  was  an  old  Negro,  who, 
in  his  younger  days,  had  been  a  faithful  fer- 
vant ;  but  captivity  and  forrow  had  at  length 
broken  his  fpirit,  and  deftroyed  that  ambition 
\vhich  actuates  the  free,  and  gives  energy  and 
life  to  all  they  perform.  This  was  a  proper 

&ibjec~t  for  the  cruelty  of  Mr.  A' to  a6t 

upon..  Upon  the  commiflioa of  the  fmallefl 
fault,  or  the  mod  trifling  neglect,  he  would 
himfelf  tie  MINGO,  (as  butchers  do  flieep  in 
tended  for  flaughter)-  and  after  having  beaten 
him  till  the  blood  followed  every  ilroke  of  the 
whip,  he  would  retire,  leaving  the  wretch 
weltering  in  his  gore,  expofed  to  the  burning 
rays  of  fummer  or  the  gelid  gales  of  winter. 
When  refted  he  would  return,  and  after  a  re 
petition  of  his  amufement,  would  releafe  the 
fufferer,  left  a  few  more  minutes  of  fuch  ex 
treme  agonies  mould  fliorten  the  period  of 
Mi N GO'S  woes,  and  his  mailer's  felicity. 
However,  this  mode  of  punifhment  becoming 

a  little  troubleibme  to  Mr,  A. ,  he  thought 

A  a  3  of 


270         FINE  FEELINGS  IN  A  NEGRO. 

of  another  which  he  believed  would  anfvvsr 
nearlyas  well:  he  caufed  a  large  ox-chain  to 
be  made,  and  putting  itabout  MINGO'S  waitt, 
he  broughtit  round  his  neck,  and  there  fattened 
it  again,  leaving  an  end  of  about  four  yards, 
to  which  he  nailed  a  piece  of  wood  .weighing 
upwards  of  forty  weight.  With  this  clog  the 
Have  was  obHged  to  work — and  this  at  night 
was  placed  in  the  matter's  chamber,  (the  chain 
patting  through  a  hole  in  the  door)  while 
MINGO  flept  on  the  ground  out  fide  of  the 
houfe,  from  which  uncomfortable  couch  no 
thing  but  the  moft  bitter  cold  excufed  him.. 

Seven  long  years  did  the  miferable.  being 
groan  under  this  load,  when  the  captain  of  a 
veflel,  hearing  of  his  hard  fate,  out  of  pity 
bought  him. 

After  having  paid  the  money  he  wenrhome, 
and  fending  for  MINGO,  told  him  he  was 
free : — "  You  are  your  own  matter,"  faid  the 
humane  failor;  "  but  you  are  old,  and  help- 
*'  lefs — I  will  take  care  of  you.'* — Over 
powered  with  joy,  the  old  man  elafped  the 
captain's  knees ;  he  wept  aloud— he  railed  his 
fwimming  eyes  to  heaven — he  would  have 
fpoken  his  thanks ; — but  his  frame  was  too 
feeble  for  the  mighty  conflict  of  his  foul — he 
expired  at  his  benefactor's  feet ! 

A.  FRAGMENT-. 


A  FRAGMENT, 


1792. 


X  HE  darkening  ft'orms  of  Winter  are  fled— 
his  icy  honours  are  difTolved — and  the  hoarfe 
gale  that  fported  on  the  foamiiig.be/fom  of  the 
ocean,  and  bent  the  tall  pines  of  the  defert, 
lies  hufli'd  in  the  cell  of  Tranquillity — At  the 
enchanting  call  of  S-pring,  the  timid  Snowdrop 
unfolds  her  filvery  beauties,  and  the  fair  Hy 
acinth  diiFufes  abroad  her  delicate  perfume ; 
the  green  blade  raifes  its  tender  ftem,  and  Na 
ture,  wiping  away  her  tears,  puts  on  the  fmile 
of  lovelinefs — But,  alas  !  O  Spring!  thy  charms 
delight  not  the  forrowful  fo^l  of  JACINTA;, 
in  vain  dbfl  thou  fport  around  //<?rwhofe  heart 
is  die  dwelling  of  woe — Solitary  as  Night  fhe : 
wanders  among  the  tombs — for  ALDELLO, 
the  youth  of  her  love,  fleeps  the  deep  {lumber 
of  death — Yes,  he  is  gone,  he  is  fallen  to  dumb 
Forgctfulnefs  an  early  prey — Clofed  are  thofe 
animated  eyes  which  beamed  love,  and  unfeel 
ing  is 'that  heart  which  could  once  melt  at  the 
tale  of  diftrefs— Alas !  it  no  longer  refponds  to 

the 


A  FRAGMENT, 

the  light  airs  of  Feftivity,  nor  heeds  the  mellow 
warblings  of  Melancholy ;  but  imprifoned  with 
in  the  narrow  precin&s  of  the  grave,  it  is  cold — 
cold  as  the  clod  that  conceals  it. — 

Flow  on  my  tears — bathe  the  clayey  couch 
of  ALDEL^O,  and  let  the  fighs  of  my  bread 
mingle  with  the  founds  of  night,  for  the  friend 
of  my  heart  is  no  more— I  figh  unpitied— I 
moan  unheard — and  when  my  tears  fall>  they 
fall  not  on  the  bofom  otCompaffion — Nightly 
will  I  vifitthe  place  of  thy  repofe,  my  love — 
I  will  think  of  thy  departed  virtues,  and  weep 
to  their  memory—and  th:r  fhall  be  the  folace 
of  my  griefs :  the  hand  of  Spring  {hall  re-deco 
rate  thy  turf  "with  verdure. — and  the  leafiefs 
willow  that  nods  o'er  thine  urn,  fhall  fhe  again 
attire — Here,  fragrant  Evening  fhall  fhed  her 
fweetefl  tears — and  here,  the  white  clover, 
nightly  lifting  its  moift  odours  to  the  winds, 
fhall  bloflbm  ta  adorn  thy  grave. 

The  THRUSH  /hall  defert  the  dark  foreft,  to  fwell 
O'er  thy  tomb,  my  ALDELLO,  her  forrowful  fong; 

While  the  light  blowing  gales  in  the  mountains  that  dwell,  • 
O'er  the  flow  rolling  HUDSON  the  note  fhaH  prolong., 

»«*••*         $         #         #         *  •       •         * 

THE 


THE  CHINA  ASTER. 


273 


THE  CHINA  4STER. 


PLANTED  it  with  my  own  hand,'  faid 
my  little  fitter,  holding  up  a  withered  China 
after,  plucked  up  by  the  roots  —  *  I  covered  it 
from  the  fun  —  I  watered  it  night  and  morning;, 
and  after  all  —  (wiping  her  eyes  with  the  cor 
ner  of  her  frock)  —  after  all,  it  is  dead!''  — 

Alas  !  how  many  are  the  occurrences  in 
lifer  thought  I,  which  refemble  MARY'S 
flower.  Too  eafily  believing  what  we  wiflv, 
we  adopt  fome  pretty  trifle,  and  laying  it  as  it 
were  in  ourbofom,  love  it  *  as  a  daughter.'— 
Fancy  paints  it  in  gay  colours  ;  increafing  in 
beauty  we  fee  its  little  leaves  expand?,  and  trace 
its  progrefs  with  anxious  folicitude  from  the 
five/ling  bud  to  the  full  blow  ;  and  then,  wrhea 
we  fondly  expect  to  enjoy  it,  reality,  tells  us  — 
after  all,  It  is  dead!  ---- 

How  often  does  an  only  fon  engrofs  all  the 
cares  of  his  parents,  and  wind  himfelf  round 
every  fibre  of  their  heart—  To  cherifh  the 
idol  is  every  wiili  on  the  ftretch  —  to  indulge 
it  are  all  the  rarities  of  art  and  nature  procured  ; 

fleeple.fs 


5174  THE!  CHINA   ASTER. 

ileeplefs  nights  and  anxious  days  are  their  lot  ; 
and  lo  !  v/hen  they  hope  to  fee  the  end  of  their 
labours,  ftruck  by  the  hand  of  Difeafe,  or  de- 
bafed  by  the  contaminating  touch  of  Vice,  the- 
agonising  parents  find,  after  all*  it  is  dead!  — 

And  how  fanguine  are  the  expe&ations  of 
thofe  relatives  and  friends,  who  poflefs  a  lovely 
girl;  endowed  with  all  the  charms  of  beauty 
and  goodnefs!  how  do  they  exult  in  her  very 
idea  1  fhe  is  the  folace  of  their  calamities,  and 
the  flaff  of  dependence  for  their  declining 
years — Fnendjfnp  rifes  in  her  defence  like  a 
wall — and  Affeftion  nourishes  her  as  the  mild 
dews  of  Spring— Ah  !  to  how  little  purpofe ! 
the  canker  worm  of  jLcwpreysupon  the  delicate 
root  of  this  fweet  fenfitive;  and  the  fcorching 
winds  of  Disappointment  drink  up  its  moifture 
—it  fades ;  the  hands  of  Friendship  and  Affec 
tion  are  united  to  fupport  it  in  vain  ;  for. 

The  deep  drawn  oft  repeated  figh 

Hath  caus'd  Health's  blulhes  to  decay  $ 

The  tear  that  moiften'd  Beauty's  eye 
Hath  worn  its  luftreqyite  away. 

It  languifhes  and  dies — and  Regret,  bitterly 
weeping,  raves  round  the  lovely  fallen,  and 
exclaims,  after  all ',  it, is  dead!  ****** 

jfc  i%  *'-  ^  ».  ,^k  V "  #'  #  *  #V*  * 

POEMS.. 


P  O  E  M  S. 


A  DREAM. 

March,  17%. 

\T  HEN  drowfy  Sleep  had  clos'd  my  weary 

eyes 

Fancy  conveyM  me  to  a  Tandy  fhore, 
Where  the  fteep  cliffs,  wet  with  the  midnight 

dews, 
Re-echd'd  to  the  forge's  hollow  roar ; 

Night  had   methought  put  on  her  fobereft 

charms, 

The  filvery  flars  a  feeble  glimmer  gave, 
The  winds  rung  mournful  through  the  elm's 

green  arms, 

And  the  wan  moon-beams  trembled  on  the 
wave ; 

When  from  among  the  rocks  the  voice  of  Grief 

I  heard,  it  -fadly  warbled  in  the  air ; 
Wond'ring,  I  turn'd  to  view  from  whence  it 

came, 
And  lo !  a  form  appeared  divinely  fair: 

Her 


2)6  POEMS. 

Her  auburn  hair  hung  crelefs  round  her  neck, 
Sorrow  fat  weeping  in  her  beauteous  eye ; 

The  rofe  had1  faded  in  her  downy  cheek, 
And  from  her  beating  bofom  fled  a  figh: 

Grief  horn  her  frame  the  bloom  of  health  had 

cha&'d, 
The  flood  me   approach' d  with  tott'ring 

pace  and  flow ; 

To  the  blue  vault  of  heav'n  her  eyes  (he  rais'd, 
And,  fighing,  thus  began  a  tale  of  woe: 

~+  Still  as  the  eve  returns,  my  penfive  foul 
<  O'er  the  Atlantic  cafts  a  mournful  glance, 

*  And  o'er  the  fwelling  furges,  as  they  roll, 

•*  Purfues  my  BELMONT  to  the  fhores  of 
France. 

*  When  he  departed  tears  refus'd  to  flow, 

4  Seal'd  were  the  fountains  of  my  aching  eyes, 
<  And  my  big  heart  fwell'd  with  oppreflive  woe, 
•'  Juft  breath'd  a  wilh  to  yonder  beaming 
ikies, 

*  Yewindsbe  profperous,  and  ye  fapphire  Jkies 

*  Let  no  black  tempeft  o* er  your  bofom  movc\ 

*  Be  calm  yefeas,  nor  let  your  billows  rife 

4  To  agitate  the  mind  of  him  I  lov€. 

<  No 


POEMS.  ZJJ 

*  No  angel  wafted  to  the  fkies  my  pray'r  ; 

*  Vain  was  the  wiih,  it  funk  upon  the  more ; 

*  BELMONT  wasgone !  thepart'nerof  my  care 

'  Was  gone  forever,  to  return  no  more ! 

*  By  winds  tempefluous  was  the  veflel  driv'n 

*  O'er  the  broad  wafte  where  lonely  waters 

roll.; 
£  Darknefs  hung  awful  round  the  lowering 

heav'n, 

1  And  heavy  thunders  groan' d  from  pole  to 
pole. 

*  All  round  the  {hip  the  clam'rous  billows  dafli'd, 

*  Here  mountains  rofe,  there  funk  to  yawn 

ing  graves  ; 

*  From  heaven's  wide  gates  a  mighty  torrent 

rum'd, 

'  And  plung'd  them  headlong  in  the  foaming 
\vaves. 

*  There  funk  forever  all  my  hopes  of  blifs— • 

*  I  bade  a  long  farewell  to  happinefs  ; 

«  From  that  fad  moment  when-the  ruthlefs  deep 

*  On  its  cold  bofom  laid  my  LOVE  to  fleep. 

«  Low  my  fond  BELMONT,  low  now  lies  thy 

head  ; 

<  Rude  furges   wa/li   acrofs   thy  peaceful 
breaft; 

B  b  (  Forgot 


2)8  POEMS. 

'  Forgot  are  all  thy  cares,  thy  fears  are  fled,  > 
'  And  all  thy  griefs  in  blifsful  flumbers  reft  ! " 

She  paus'd ;  fhe  ceas'd,  check 'd  by  a  flood  of 

tears ; 
When  from  the  waters  rofeher  BELMONT'S 

fhade.; 

Serene  his  afpect  as  the  night  was  clear ; 
Thus  fpake  the  angel  to  the  forrowing  maid: 

•*  C  A  LIST  A,  give  thy  fruitlefs  forrows  o'er, 

*  Oh  wipe  thofe  riv'lets  from  thy  beauteous 

eyes, 

•*  Weep  for  thy  faithful,  long-loft  LOVE  no 
more, 

*  Nor  fwell  thy  bofom  with  heart-rending 

fighs. 

-*  Why  fhouldft  thou  grieve  ?  why  forrow  for 
the  dead  ? 

*  Doft  thou  not  know  thy  plaints  are  all  in 

vain  ? 

c  When  low  in  death  the  humid  corfeislaid, 
'  Norjtghs  nor  tears  fhall  bring  it  life  again. 

-*  When  awful  thunders  rattled  round  the-fkies, 
•*  Mixt  with  the  fhriekings  of  the  hopelcfs 
crew ; 

«  When 


POEMS.  279. 

*•  When  lived  lightnings  dimM  our  lifted  eyes, 

*  And  Death  itfelf  prefented  to  our  view! 

'•  Amid  this  foul -affrighting  difmal  fcene, 
'  Upon  the  ROGK  OF  AGES  ftanding  firm, 

*  My  happy  fpirit  refted  all  ferene, 

*  Nor  trembled  at  the  roarings  of  the  ftorm. 

*  When  gloomy  waters  rank'd  me  with  the  dead, 

*  Quick  to  the  deep  my  guzrdianferaphs  flew, 
*•  And  on  their  glittering  pinnionsmeconvey'd 

'  Far,  far  beyond  where  fhines  the  ethereal 
blue,  ' 

4  There  on  the  bofom  of Unfading  Blifs 
'  I  reft,  while  ages  after  ages  roll ; 

*  Each  paffing  age  fliall  fee  my  joys  increafe, 

*  And  ft  ill  enlarging  my  capacious  foul: 

'  Yet  thence  m-y  watchful  fpirit  hies,    • 

*  With  pleating  cares,  and  hovers  round  my 

fair, 

r  To  footh  corroding  forrows  that  arife, 
'  And  mitigate  the  pangs  of  anxious  care. 

c  Adieumuchlov'dCALisTA  !  weep  no  more, 
6  Banifh  fad  thoughts,  prepare  to  meet  thy 
love  j 

B  b  2  *  Soon 


280  POEMS. 

*  Soon  will  this  hafty  ftrife  of  life  be  o'er ; 
>  Adieu,  CALISTA,  we  fliall  meet  above!' 

The  VISION  gently  faded  from  mine  eyes; 

Scarce  did  his  form  the  yielding  waters  cleave,. 
And  the  foft  echo,  of  his  tuneful  voice 

Died  on  the  darnings  of  the  diitant  wave. 


A  VERSION  of  the  LOR&s  PRATER. 

Nov.  1790. 

NICIENT  God!  great  Ruler  of  the 

earth ! 

Parent  of  man  !  exuberent  fource  of  good  ! 
Whofe  hand  hath  fpread  the  fouth  and  frigid 

north, 
Whofe- throne  from  all  eternity  hath  flood. 

Upborne  on  Contemplation's  lofty  wing, 
We  bring  our  {applications  to  the  throne 

Qthim  from  whom  our  choiceft  bleffings  fpring, 
Whofe  being  ne'er  hath  a  beginning  known* 

Thou  who  with  dazzling  glory  art  array'd, 

Forever  hallow'd  be  thy  facred  name  ; 
Nor  may  the  creature  which  thy  hand  hath 

made 

Prefume  his  Maker's  awful  name  profane. 

But 


POEMS. 

But  haften  on  the  bled  important  hour, 
When  all  creation  thee her  Lord  fhall  know, 

When  all  fhall  feel  and  own  thy  mighty  pow'r, 
And  ev'ry  knee  and  ev'ry  heart  fhall  bow. 

As  by  the  orders  which  furround  thy  hill, 
And  chaunt  their  hymns  round  thy  effulgent 
throne,       __ 

And  thy  commands  with  tirelefs  fpeed  fulfil ; 
So  let  thy  will,  oh  Gor> !  on  earth  be  done. 

Each  day  convenient  food  let  us  receive, 
And  what  thou  fee 'ft  we  lack  do  thou  beftow ; 

And  oh  !  mayheav'n  the  kind  forbearance  give 
Which  daily  we  our  fellow  mortals  (hew. 

Ah  let  not  Pleafure's  facinating  baits 
Allure  us  to  the  flipp'ry  paths  of  Sin  ! 

Nor  let  her  gently  lead  us  to  thofe  gates 
Which  fhe,  alas!  will  never  enter  in: 

But  ihield  us,  Lord,  beneath  thy  potent  wing; 

Wide  o'er  the  earth  thy  peaceful  banner 

fpread, 
And  there  let  ev'ry  way-worn  pilgrim  bring 

His  cares,  and  reft  beneath  its  ample  fhade. 

Bb  *  Oh 


POEMS', 


Ohearth  !  comeworfhipat  JEHOVAH'S  throne! 

Ye  habitants  of  heav'n  your  anthems  raife, 
Omnipotence  and  glory  are  his  own, 

HE  but  is  worthy  of  eternal  praife  ! 


jT0  ALFRED)  In  Anfuuer  to  a  Complaint. 

O£h>ber,   1.790. 

JLVJL  Y  friend  'tis  true,  I  own  it  is, 
The  world's  a  cheat,  as  is  believ'd ; 

And  thofe  who  look  for  folid  peace 

On  earth,  will  find  themfelves  deceived; 

There  are  no  pure  fubftantial  joys 

To  be  poffcfs'd  below  the  ikies. 

But  I  believe,  beneath  the  fun, 

No  pow'r  exifts,  by  Reafon  fway'd, 

Who  has  not  had,  in  Life's  gay  run, 
His  fhare  of  happinefs  difplay'd  ; 

A  fhare  of  that  which  fills  the  breaft, 

And  lulls  the  foul  perturb'd  to  reft. 

O  Youth  !  what  blifs  in  thee  is  found  ! 

Bleft  time  of  gambol,  fport  and  joy, 
When  mufic  rolls  in  ev'ry  found, 

And  ev'ry  object  charms  the  eye ; 


POEM9.  283 

When  few  our  cares,  and  foon  forgot, 
Each  pleas'd,  delighted  with  its  lot. 

When  riper  years  fleal  o'er  our  head,. 
They  often  come  replete  with  good ; 

But  we,  by  erring  Fancy  led* 
Reject  the  benefits  beftow'd, 

Some  empty  flittering  form  purfue, 

And  lofe  the  fhade  and  fubftarice  too : 

Yet  are  there  not  of  that  poffeft 

Which  inaKes  their  lives  glide  on  with  cafe, 
Something  which  makes  one  mortal  bleil 

But  would  deftroy  another's  peace, 
Which  reconciles  him,,,  foon  or  late, 
To  the  moil  adverfe  turn  of  Fate.?. 

The  ragged  grey  mifanthrope, 

Difgufted,  from  the  world  withdraws, 

Yet  looks  with  pitying  eye  to  fee 
Mankind  deride  his  fapient  laws  ; 

Humanely  drops  a  tear  and  cries-, 

"  O  that  mankind  like  me  were  wife!" 

The  flave  hard  labouring  at  the  oar, 
Believes  his  lord's  condition  worfe, 

(The  gouty,  torturM  epicure,) 
And  breathes  his  pity  in  a  curfe ; 

Nor 


2$4  !>OEM§. 

Nor  would  the  wretch  exchange  his  chain 
For  all  the  glutton's  wealth  and  pairu 

E'en  he  yotr  think  appreft  with  care, 
The  idle  Beggar  at  your  door, 

Who  only  wants  a  little  fhare, 

A  cruft,  a  drink,  he  afks  no  more  ! 

He  thanks  the  pow'rs  who  have  not.  faid, 

By  labour  he  fhould  earn  his  bread. 

Whatever  garments  Blifs  afTumes, 
She  is  to  time  nor  place  confmM, 

Nor  ftraw  thatch 'd  cot,  nor  {lately  rooms, 
But  dwells  in  the  contented  mind: 

She  holds  her  empire  in  the  breaft— 

The  cheerful  mind  is  ever  bleft. 

We  mar  our  peace  by  pond'ring  o'er 

The  evils  incident  to  man  ; 
Sorrows  to  come,  ills  yet  in  ftore, 

"  We  wont  be  happy  when  we  can.'* 
Let  man  not  then  condemn  the  fates 
For  evils  he  himfelf  creates. 


LINES 


POEMS.  285 


LINES 

Written  on  a  blank  Leaf  of  Col.  Humphrey's  Poems.. 

Oftober,  1790. 

W  HEN  firft  the  favage  voice  of  WAR 
We  heard,  Death  bellowing  from  afar 

Acrofs  the  (urging  ieas, 
Thy  tuneful  lyra,  hadft  thou  ft  rung, 
And  Liberty's  enchantments  fung, 
The  mufic  floating  from  thy  tongue 

Had  bid  the  tumult  ceafe  r 
Soon  had  it  quell'd  the  fierce  alarms, 
The  fees,  (both'd  by  its  foft'ning  charms, 
Had  gladly  thrown  afide  their  arms, 

And  fued  for  (railing  PEACE. 

To  JRIBERT. 

Oftobcr,  1790. 

V^/FT'  pleas'd.  my  foul  looks  forward  to  that 

day 

When  itruggling  to  afcend  the  hills  of  light, 
My  fpirit  burfting  from  thefe  walls  of  clay, 
Through  heav'n's  broad  arch  (hall  bend  its 
fteady  flight: 

While 


286  POEMS. 

While  a  few  friends  attend  the  lifelefs  form,. 

And  place  it  in  thebofom  of  the  earth  ; 
Cov'ring  it  clofe,  to  fhield  it  from  the  ilorm 

And  the  cold  blufters  of  the  whiflling  north. 

Near  the  fea  more  the  corfe  fhall  be  convey 'd ; 

A  fniall  white  urn  the  polilh'd  flone  fhall 

grace, 
And  a  few  lines,  to'  tell  who  there  is  laid, 

Shall Friendjliip\ hand  engrave  upon  the  face; 

The  dark  green  willow,  waving  o'er  my  head, 
Shall  caft  a  fadder  made  upon  the  waves ; 

And  many  a  widow'd  fwain,  and  flighted  maid, 
Shall  wear  a  garland  of  its  weeping  leaves: 

Far  fpreads  its  fhadow  o'er  the  pathlefs  vale — 
Through  its  lank  boughs  the  zephyrs  fighing 
pafs, 

And  the  low  branches,  fhaken  by  the  gale, 
Bend  llowly  down  and~kiis  the  fading  grafs. 

To  this  lone  place  the  bird  of  night  fhall  come  ; 

To  me  mall  hie  the  widow'd  turtle  too, 
And  as  me  perches  on  the  chilly  tomb, 

Warble  her  woes  in  many  a  plaintive  coo» 

There  too  the  trav'ller  who  hath  lofl  his  way, 
By  the  dim  glimmer  of  the  moon's  pale  beam , 

Shall 


POEMS.  287 

Shall  fpy  the  marble  which  conceals  my  clay, 
And  reft  his  weary  feet  to  read  the  name. 

When  o'er  our  world  Night's  auburn  veil  is  caft, 
Oh!  mould'ft  thou  ever  wander  near  thefe 

mores, 

;pond'ring  the  cheerful  hours  which  fled  fo  faft, 
With  thofe  who  were — but  are,  alas !  no 
more: 

To  this  lone  valley  let  thy  footfteps  turn— 
Here,  for  a  moment  reft  thy  paufing  eye  ; 

Juft  brufh  the  withered  leaves  from  off  my  urn, 
And  yield  the  tribute  of  a  friendly  figh. 

With  thee  perhaps  Matilda  too  may  ftray, 
To  fee  where  lies  the  friend  once  held  fo  dear, 

And  (as  /he  wipes  the  gath'ring  duft  away) 
May  to  my  mem'ry  drop  perhaps  a  tear: 

And  mould  fome  artlefs,  undefigning  friend 
Enquire  *  whofe  headrefts  here?'  him  you 
may  tell, 

As  flowly  o'er  the  fod  your  fteps  you  bend, 
<  'Tis£//«  refts  within  this  humble  cell.' 


POEMS. 


To- the  'Memory  of  4 LEON,  who  died  at  'Sea 
in  the  Tear  1790. 

February,  1791. 

X^LLEON  is  dead!— The  fallen  trump  of 

fame 

Blew  the  fad  tidings  to  the  weftern  more  : 
Thefcytheof  Time,  the  wafting  hand 'of  Pain 
Hath  lodg'dhim  with  the  myriads  gone  be 
fore. 

How  late  he  wept  his  brother- warriors  dead  ! 

Cut  off  untimely  in  Life's  early  day : 
Alas !  the  kindred  fpirit  too  is  fled ; 

We  now  to  him  the  fame  fad  tribute  pay. 

He,  like  themfelves,  •*  the  creature  of  a  day,' 
Beneath  the  frigid  arm  of  Death  hath  bow'd : 

Yes,  Alew  lies — the  valiant  and  the  gay, 
Deep  in  the  bofomof  the  ftormy  flood. 

Thus  courage,  beauty,  fentiment,  and  wit 
Bloom  in  an  hour,  and  bloom  but  to  decay  : 

Life  quits  itsfuppliants,  as  the  airy  fprite 
Before  the  morning  gale  fleets  fail  away. 

Yet 


POEMS.  289 

Yet  to  his  mem'ry  fhall  a  pile  be  rear'd, 
And  each  paft  fervice  meet  a  kind  return  ; 

Still  ihall  his  name  by  freemen  be  rever'd, 
And  laurels  fpring  and  blofibm  round  his 
urn. 

•*  But  penfivepoetefs,'  fome  one  may  fay, 
*  When  thefe  memorials  of  the  good  ihall 
fade, 

'  Will  not  his  worth  to  time  become  a  prey, 
'  And  fink  into  Oblivion's  darkeft  fhade  ?' 

Ah  !  furely  no— the  triumph  ends  not  here, 
Beyond  the  tomb  his  brighteft  profpedlsVife ; 

Sublime  he {bars  above  this  vale  of  tears-— 
He.gains  a  life  eternal  when  he  dies. 


An  ADDRESS  to  a  PROFILE. 

1791. 

JL3EAUTIFUL  profile,  much,  too  much 

belov'd, 

By  her  whofe  artlefs  heart  di&ates  this  lay  ^ 
Why  is  thy  dear  original  remov'd 

From  my  impatient  eyes  fo  far  away  ? 

M| 

Cc  Thou 


ago  POEMS." 

Thou  dear  refemblance  of  that  noble  youth, 
Why  art  thou  all  that  I  can  call  iny  own 

Of  him  ?  why  not  his  heart,  that  feat  of  truth  ! 
Why  are  my  tender  cares  to  him -unknown.? 

Ali\  rather  why  did  I  my  heart  permit 
Fondly  to  roam  o'er  Hope's  illufive  plain? 

Why  for  a  ftranger  did  its  pulfes  beat, 

While  fluttering  paflions  throb'd  through 
-ev'ry  vein? 

While  I  complain,  perhaps  he  gaily  roves, 

From  crueldoubtsand  difappointments  free ; 
And  (fick'ning  thought!)  perhaps  he  fondly 

loves, 

Nor  knows  there  lives  a  haplefs  maid  like 
me ! 

Deceitful  Hope  !  thy  flow'ry  courts  I'll  quit, 
Nor  more  prefentmy  offerings  at  thy  fhrine, 

Butfcorning  cenfure,  weep  my  wayward  fate, 
Foi  L****  never — never  can  be  mine. 


ELEffT 


POEM3. 


ELEGY  to  Mifs  ANNA  DUNDASS. 

March,  179*1. 

6  O  ELLA  !  tune  thy  lyra,'  didft  thou  fay  ? 
And artthou,  ANNA,  pleas'dwith  notes  like 

mine, 

Which  chord  but  with  the  flow  ton'd  dirge- 
like  lay, 
Which  fad  and  plaintive  weep  atev'ryline? 

Let  others  afk  refulgent  Sol'  for  aid, 

When  glows  the  orient  with  pervading  day  ; 

Or  court  the  Mufes  in  the  balmy  /hade, 
Where   vi'lets  bloom  and  dimpling  foun 
tains  play. 

I  wait  not  Phofphcr's  nor  Apollo's  beam, 
Nor  thewarmfmilesof  joymfpirmg  Spring:, 

To  roufe  my  Mufe — woe  is  a  ready  theme, 
And  drowfy  night  the  feafon  when  I  Hug. 

Such   nights,     when  Luna  faintly  gilds   the 

waves, 
And  fhad'wy  forms  fleet  o'er  the  wat'ry 

wafte  ; 

When  reftlefs  fpirits  leave  their  turfy  graves, 
And  {talking  flow,  moan  to  the  hollow  blaft. 
Cc  2  'Tis 


POEMS. 

*Tis  then,  amidft  the  univerfal  gloom, 
My  penfive  foul  purfues  her  fav'rite  plan, 

Weeps  o'ermyfriends  defcended  to  the  tomb, 
And  mourns  the  melancholy  flate  of  man. 

"  Child  of  a  day"— the  being  of  an  hour, 
He  hurries  fwiftly  through  Life's  troublous 

fcene  ; 
Treads  the  fame  round  which  thoufands  trod 

before, 
Then  dies,  and  is  as  tho'  he  ne'er  had  been. 

Yes,  hemufl  die,  theneareft  friends  muft  part, 
The  victor  Death  accepts  not  of  a  claim  ; 

And  though  the  ftroke  may  crufh.  a  kindred 

heart, 
He  heeds  it  not — to  fupplicate  is  vain. 

But  oh  !   'tis  fad  to  fee  an  infant  pour 

Its  plaints  round  one  juft  ready  to  depart; 

This  burfts  the  heart  confign'd  to  Death  before, 
And  adds  a  fling  to  his  acuteft  dart. 

TAis9  ANN  ELIZA,  on  a  dying  bed, 
Severely  felt— ihe  fondly  wept  for  me ; 

She  ftrain'd  me  in  her  arms,  and  weeping  faid, 
"  When  I  am  gone — ah!  who  will  care 

for  thee  ? 

"  What 


POEMS.  293 

"  What  tender  friend  will  guide  thy  infant 

thought 

"  When  cares  ftiall  call  thy  father  far  away? 
"  By  whom  wilt  thou  to  act  aright  be  taught? 
"  Ah  !  who,  my  ELLA  !  who  will  care  for 
thee  ?" 

Oh  !   'twas  a  bitter  pang— I  feel  it  yet  ! 

My  bofom  fwells  with  every  figh  me  gave ; 
And  the  foft  drops  with  which  her  cheek? 

were  wet 

Wound  the  full  heart  they  dropt  bwt  to  re 
lieve. 

But  ANNA,  left  my  forrows  give  theepain, 
While  thus  the  tear  of  fond  affedlion  flows, 

I'll  hulh  my  plaints — and  clofe  the  mournancr 

ft  rain, 
And  bid  adieu  awhile— to  all  my  woes. 


T 


MORNING. 

1791. 


HE  fpicy  morn,  with  purple  ray, 
Faintly  illumes  the  eaftern  fkies, 
While  from  each  dew  befprinkled  fpray 
Ambrofial  odours  gently  rile ; 

C  c  3  Silence 


294  POEMS. 

Silence  flill  holds  the  wide  domain, 
The  Zephyrs  {lumber  in  the  fhade  ; 

The  ftream  that  creeps  along  the  plain, 
Scarce  murmurs  to  the  lift'ning  glade : 

No  fongftrefs  breathes  her  artlefs  lay, 
No  footfteps  print  the  dewy  vale, 

O'er  the  broad  lawn  no  lambkins  ftray, 
For  fleep  flill  nods  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

Where  penfive  Grief  forgets  to  figh, 
There  Morpheus  flill  thy  ftation  keep, 

And  with  thy  fignet  feal  the  eye, 
The  eye  which  only  wakes  to  weep. 

But  while  I  fpeak,  the  profpecls  change, 
The  warblers  dance  upon  the  air, 

The  fleecy  tribe  the  paftures  range, 

Refrem'd  with  fleep,  and  free  from  care  : 

All  nature  bows— all  nature  fmgs, 

And  to  its  author  homage  pays ; 
Each  part  a  grateful  tribute  brings, 

The  whole  creation  gives  him  praife, 

Be  thou  not,  oh  !   my  languid  foul, 

An  indolent  fpe&ator  here, 
While  clouds  of  cheerful  incenfe  roll 

To  him  who  rules  above  our  fphere : 

Before 


POEMS.  295 

Before  him  pour  the  lay  fmcere, 

When  Morning's  beams  thine  eyes  fhallblefs, 
And  let  the  fhades  of  Ev'ning  hear 

That  flill  thou  doft  his  name  confefs. 


EVENING. 


1791, 


's  golden  chariot  down  the  weftern  iky 
Has  rolFd,  clos'd  are  the  pearly  gates  of  light  j 
The  varied  \>ro(ipe&s9  fading,  leave  the  eye 
Wrapt  in  theftroud  offolitary  night* 

Hudfon,  in  filence,  laves  the  moon-gilt  fhores, 
The  winds  hum  fallen  o'er  the  lucid  plain, 

And  Griefher  plaints  in  peniive  mufic  pours, 
While  Echo,  fad,  repeats  the  melting  ftrain. 

Ah  !  what  a  tone  arrefts  my  raptur'd  ear, 
Sweet  as  the  thruJJfs  note  at  clofe  of  day, 

While  balmy  breezes,  thro'  the  humid  air, 
On  gilded  plumes  waft  the  foft  founds  away. 


tf  fmgs,  the  mournful  voice  I  know, 
I  know  the  broken  figh  which  checks  the 
fong, 

While 


296  POEMS. 

While  accents  foft  of  unaffected  woe, 

Warm  from  the  heart,  drop  from  her  artlefs 
tongue. — 

"  O  chilly  moon!   O  paler  lamp  of  heav* nf 
11  The  joys  I've  known  by  thy  fair  light 

are  o'er, 
il  And  thefe  fad  eyes,  which  hail'd  returning 

ev'n, 
**  See  beauty  in  thy  Jilver  ray  no  more: 

s'  For  iince  my  brother  {lumbers  with  the  dead, 
"  Each  once-lov'd  object  wears  a  cheerlefs 

gloom ; 
"  Each  jocund  thought,  each  happier  view  is 

fled, 
<•  Is  with  my  Odin  funk  into  the  tomb. 

*'  Five  years  had  feen  me  tafte  unmingled  joys, 
"  When  War's  trump  blew— I  heard  the 

folemn  fwelt; 

"  ^Aj father  heard  his  ftruggling  country' 's  voice, 
"  He  felt  her  wrongs— he  rufh'd  to  war— 
he  fell ! 

"  With  pious  hand  my  Odin  wip'd  the  tear 
"  From  the  pale  cheek  of  her  who  gave  us 
breath ; 

«  But 


POEMS.  297 

**  But  vain  tofoothe  heranguifh  was  his  care, 
'  *  She  pining  funk ,  cropt  by  the  hand  of  Death  / 

"  One  yet  remained  my  heedlefs  fteps  to  guide, , 
"  To  feel  my  forrows  he  forgot  his  own ; 

"  Bleft  with  his  care,  I  had  no  wifh  befide  ; 
"  But  he — oh,  bitter  thought ! — he  too  is 
gone  ! 

11  O  life  !  how  complicated  are  thy  woes  !* 
"  Fain  from  thy  realm  of  forrow  would  I  fly, 

"  Forgot  the  goods  and  ills  thou  canft  beftow, 
<(  And  pafs  thy  clojing  gates  without  a  figh. 

"  Peace!   peace,  my  heart!  thy  achings  foon 

will  ceafe, 

"  Forbear  thypantings,   I  fhall  foon  rejoin 
**  The  happy  fpirits  of  my  loves  in  peace, 
"  And  tafte  with  them  the  blifs  which  is 
divine. 

"  Silent  as  Death  the  moments  dole  along, 
*'  Lait  night,  as  late  thro'  mouldering  ruins  I 
paft; 

"  The  bird  of  eve  had  clos'd  her  darkling  fong, 
i(  Nor  hung  an  echo  on  the  dying  blaft: 

«  Whea 


298  POEMS 

"  When  Jo  !  mjleeplefi  unremhted  calls 
*  *  ibe.  deaths atch  beat  the  flying  hours  away, 

"  hn&Jighing  ghofts  hent  thro'  the  broken  walls , 
"  And  ilowly  whifp'ring,  chid  my  ling'ring 
flay. 

"  O  grant  me  refignation  I  power  fupreme  f 

"  'Till  thou  in  love  (lialt  fummon  me  away, 
4<  'TillDeat/i  ihall  wake  me  from  this  troub 
lous  dream, 

"  And  mine  eyes  open  on  eternal  day.'' 
So  be  it  love— may  Peace  her  pinions  fpread 

Around  the  weary  couch  by  Artha  preft  ; 
May  angels  warble  fonnets  round  her  head, 

To  lull  her  melancholy  four  to  reft. 

And  oh !  may  heav'n,  in  pity  to  her  woes, 
Soothe  her  fad  heart,  to  many  a  pang  a  prey, 

And  in  religion  grant  her  fweet  repofe, 

'Till  angels  waft  her  to  the  realms  of  day. 

NIGHT. 

AIL  TWILIGHT  !  hail  thou  fober  pleaf- 

ing  form, 
Who  now  approacheft  us  in^fair  array, 

Thou 


POEMS.  299 

Thou  offspring  of  the  Sun,  where'er  thy  light 
Is  /hewn,  thou  giv'ft  new  life  to  all  around'; 
The  weary  peafant  from  the  gilded  mount, 
With  joyous  heart,  defcries  thee  from  afar, 
And  haftening  homeward,  whiltles  through 

the  field 
His  thanks  to  thee  for  bringing  him  relief. 

The  horfe  and  oxen  now  f orfake  the  plough, 
Or  quit  the  heavy  yoke,  and  feck  the  {hade, 
Where  in  fome  rolling  ftream  they  quench 

their  thirft, 

Or  on  the  bank  repofe  their  .weary  limbs 
In  fleep  ;  enjoy  the  prtfent  hour,  nor  fee 
Their  future  ills,  nor  recollect  the  paft. 

But  fee  the  EVENING  folemnly  draws  near; 
Ail  Nature  welcomes  her  ;   thcjteecy  tribe 
Bleat  forth  their  thanks  to  him  who  gave  them 

breath, 

As  flowly  to  their  fold  they  bend  their  way, 
And  their  conductor  lifts  his  heart  and  eyes 
In  filent  awe,  and  gives  his  Maker  praife : 
The  feathered  choir  now  warble  foftlieft  notes, 
And  every  hill  refponds  to  Mufic's  voice  ; 
'While  wandering^breezes  through  the  dewy 

wood 
On  their  light  plumes,  the  whifpering  echos 

bear: 

And 


300  POEM*. 

And  mall  /hold  my  peace  when  all  aro\m<J 
Invite  me  to  partake  with  them  the  rich, 
The  fweet,  the  great  repaft  of  gratitude? 
No!    I'll  break  forth  and  mingle  with  the 

throng, 

And  thus  addrefs  my  Author  and  my  End: 
'  LORD,  what  is  man,  or  what  his  mighty  deeds, 
'  That  thou  from  thine  eternal  throne  mould' ft 

ftoop 

«  To  pity  him,  and  grant  him  happinefs, 
'  To  be  his  gueft,  and  health  to  be  his  friend  ? 
6  Where'er  we  turn  we  fee  thy  mighty  love, 

*  Thy  matchlefsgoodnefs,andunequairdpow'r: 

*  Make  us  to  love  thee,  FATHER,  as  we  aught, 
-*  And  make  our  ev'ry  action,  word  and  thought 

*  To  fpeak  thy  goodnefs,   and  to  give  thee 

praife." 
The  queen  of  night,   with  her  refplendant 

train, 

Shines  from  behind  the  hills.;. her  golden  lamps 
Hung  high  in  heaven,  bedeck  the  dark  blue  Iky, 
And  grace  the  earth,  and  fcatter  wonted  light.' 
Ye  wond'rous  worlds  who  now  to  us  appear 
Like  little  orbs,  inferior  to  our  own, 
Still  fparkle  bright,  and  glitter  on  through  time, 
And  mew  to  all  the  nations  round,  that  HE 
Who  built  your  fpheres,  is  powerful  and  great ! 

How 


POEMS. 

How  calm  the  night !  how  filentand  ferene ! 
No  -dreadful  whirlwinds  blow,  nor  thunders 

roar, 
Nor  earthquake  fhakes  the  ground,  but  all  is 

hunVd, 

The  Zephyrs  fbftly  fteal  through  the  deep  grove, 
Fanning  the  (lumbering  birds,  while  Cynthia's 

beam 

Quivers  in  filence  o'er  the  glafTy  ftream, 
Mov'd  by  the  breathings  of  the  paffing  gale. 
Not  fuch  the  eve  when   BERTRAND  left 

thefe  fhores, 
Deep  howl'd   the  ftorm,   heav'n's  windows 

open'd  wide, 
And  rain,  hail,  fleet  and  fnow  came  naming 

down 

In  many  a  fiery  blaft,  on  furious  wing  : 
Then  fulphur  mixt  with  ice,  and  flame  with 

fnow, 

Black  thunders  roll'd  acrofs  the  angry  heav'n, 
And  forked  lightnings  thro'  the  fable  fkies 
KurFd  fwift  definition  on  the  world  beneath  ; 
Old  Ocean  roar'd,  and  from  his  lowed  caves 
Sent  forth  his  darkening  waves,  which  round 

the  fhip 

With  force  impetuous  long  dafh'd  to  and  fro ; 
Dd  But 


302-  POEMS 

But  ere  the  rifmg  of  another  fun 
Oerwhelm'd  the   paflengers   with    "  watry 

death." 

Oh  !  what  a  night  of  forrow  and  defpair! 
BOREAS  and  NEPTUNE,  and  ^£OLUS  fought ; 
The  weeping  NAIADS  left  their  oozy  beds 
And  fled  for  fuccour  to  the  diftant  fhores, 
While  frighted  THE  T  I  s  ftifFning  with  amaze^ 
^Forgot  the  pow'r  to  flee  ! 
Long  held  the  conteft,  till  the  pitying  SUN 
Look'd  down,  and  faw  how  in  oonfuilon  wild 
The  wat'ry  empire  lay ;  he  interpos'd, 
And  fumm'd  up  all  his  fhining  rays,  a  hoft 
Of  glittering  warriors,  whofe  refulgent  fpears 
Difpers"'d  the  fluttering  clouds,  and  calm'd  the 

air. 

Now  Midnight's  mournful  veil  is  drawn  aroum}, 
While  the  wan  moon  gleams  .fainter  through 

the  trees, 

Vapours  opaque  the  fha"dowy  mountains  fhroud. 
And  {hrieking  ghofts  fleet  fail  along  the  plain,. 
Nowis  the  mournful  time !  the  hour  of  woe,, 
When  Ptfwnfy'sforfa ken  aged  fons 
Tofs  on  their  thorny  couch  in  deep  diftrefs, 
And  Sorrow's  ancient  weeping  daughters  now 
Refleft  on  all  their  woes,  their  former  griefs, 
Their  miferies,  and  dread  futurity : 

Hark! 


POEMS.  303 

Hark !  how  that  groan,  wrung  from  the  heart 

of  woe, 

In  bitter  agonies  arrefh  my  ear  ! 
Difmally  plaintive  rolls  the  feeble  found, 
And  calls  for  fuccour  from  fome  pitying  hand: 
Ah  !  the  dread  King  of  Terrors  e'en  they  call 
To  hurl  with  fpeed  the  long  expected  dart ! 
Perhaps  he  ftrikes!   perhaps  juft  now  the  foul 
Sprung  from  its  bands  into  eternity  ! 
Dark  feems  the  paiTage— all  the  lights  are 

clcs'd, 

And  the  dim  eyes  of  my  affected  foul 
Open  upon  the  doleful  fcene,  in  vain: 
How  feels  the  foul  juft  ftepping  from  its  barque, 
Upon  thofe  boundlefs  fhores,  dreary  and  dark, 
Where  ends  all  fpace  and  time,  a  flranger 

there  ? 
She  knows  not  where  to  turn  her  wondering 

form 

Till  fome  kind  Spirit,  fent  from  the  abode 
Of  JESUS,  takes  her  to  the  land  of  peace, 
Or  from  the  realms  of  ibrrow,  fome  black 

fiend 

Seizes  her  pale,  and  trembling  as  fhe  ftands, 
And  plunges  her  into  the  gulph  of  woe  ! 
How  filent,  O  how  peaceful  is  the  GRAVE  ! 
Silent  and  dark  as  thee,  O  much  Jov'd  Night! 
Dd  2  "There 


304  POEMS. 

There  neither  Pride  nor  Difcontent  can  comc> 

Nor  peniive  Melancholy,  no,  nor  is 

The  mournful  voice  of  Sorrow  heard  to  weep  \ 

There  are  our  griefs  in  fweet  oblivion  loft, 

When  every  avenue  of  life  is  clos'd ; 

.And  though  our  friends  may  moan  around  our 

couch, 

We  ilill  fleep  on  regardlefs  of  their  plaints :  « 
'There  rinds  the  weary  traveller  a  reft, 
And  there  the  child  of  Poverty  a  home; 
The  bofom  that  with  marp  affliction  throbb'd, 
And  the  fad  heart  that  fwell'd  with  many  a 

figh, 

"There  reft  in  filence,  and  the  fad  tongue  which. 
In  piteous  accents  told  its  miferies 
And  woes,  ceafes  for  ever  to  complain ! 

Oh  thou  repofitory  of  the  dead! 
Thou  afylum  of  many -a  broken  heart ! 
Clofe  lock'd  within  thy  cold  unfeeling  arms 
ELIZA'S  body  fleeps  !   duft  finks  to  duft  ! 
And  the  flow  worm,  unconfcious  of  her  worth. 
Crawl  o'er  my  parent's  confecrated  breaft, 
That  breaft  fo  lately  fill'd  with  every  grace, 
With  every  virtue  which  could  charm  the  foul : 
But  their  meridian  foon,  too  foonthey  reach'd  ; 
For  while  gay  Beauty,  mantled  on  her  cheek, 

And 


POEMS.  305 

And  jocund  Youth  fat  fmiling  in  her  eyes, 
E'en  then  the  King  of  Horrors  rais'd  his  dart 
And  chill'd  her  blood;,  and  bid  her  trembling 

heart 
With  fond  maternal  love  to  beat  no  more. 

Mine  was  the  lofs,  but  fure  it  was  her  gain, 
Death  could  but  conquer  clay,  the  reft  was  free*- 
Methinks  I  fee  her  leaving  mortal  life, 
Her  fpirit  fluttering  to  attend  the  calls 
Of  waiting  angels,  whofe  melodious  voice 
Wear  out  the  pangs  of  death,  and  hail  her  fafe  + 
While  the  big  foul,  burft  from  its  narrow  mell, 
Expanding  flies :  the  fcene  grows  brighter  {till; 
Some  lofty  feraphim  appears  her  guide ; 
With  joyful  fmiles  his  radiant  footfteps  mine, 
And  fcatter  day  and  glory  from  the  fkies : 
They  reach  the  gates  where  "  Blifs  forever 

reigns," 
Where  griefs  and  carking  cares  no  more  mall 

be, 

But  loft  in  wondering  at  the  SAVIOUR'S  love, 
Eachj^/V;/  fpends  eternity  in  blifs, 
In  filent  rapture,  namelefs  extacy  ! 

Oh  thou  pure  effence  !  could  I  follow  thee 
Still  farther  on,  how  would  my  foul  rejoice! 
But  Nature  bids  me  ftop,  nor  urge  my  flight 
(Eagerly  flretch'd)  to  where  I  cannot  fee. 

Dd  3  Forever 


306  POEMS, 

Forever  fled  from  earth! — my  heart  flill 

bleeds 

At  the  remembrance,  when  in  agonies 
I  faw  her  lay,  when  the  cold  chills  of  Death 
Ran  through'her  frame,  and  every  drop  of  life 
Within  its  clofing  channel  lay  congeal'd ! 
Frefli  in  my  mind  the  uncheery  fcenes  arife, 
Each  groan  again  I  hear  !  each  piercing  cry! 
Each  languid  look  I  fee!   the  dawn  of  death, 
And  the  fad  beatings  of  the  d^ath  bell  ftill 
Hum  flow  and  diftnal  in  my  frighted  ear  I 

Alas  !  O  Go  D  !  wilt  thou  not  hear  the  pray 'f 
Sent  from  a  heart  fine  ere,  rohb'd  of  a  fond 
Indulgent  parent,  whofe  oft-heard  advice 
By  thine  afliftance  me  hath  brought  thus  far; 

O  bow  thy  mighty  ear  !   ftill'be  my  GOD, 
PROTECTOR,  and  my  GUIDE  thro'  Life's  fad 

ways ! 

That  when  my  foul  fhall  fever  from  its  clay, 
And  I  unmourn' ' d '.flide  gently  in  the  grave, 
My  happy  fpirit,  purified,  may  join 
ElizA,  on  the  fhores  where  Rapture  dwells, 
And  thro'  Eternity's  exhauftlefs  round 
Praife  and  adore  the  So.v 'REIGN  LORD, OF 

ALL* 


POEMS.  307 


F 


To  MORTIMER 

Embarking  for  the  Weft -Indies*  • 

' 

1791, 


ARE  WELL,  my  friend,  the  fteady  gale 
Invites  the  anxious  crew  away, 
Rolls  up  the  waves,  fwells  evYy  fail, 
And  lingering  chides  thy  long  delay. 

And  yet,  methinks,  with  falt'ring  voice,. 

A  fomething  bids  me  wifh  thee  itav  ; 
'Tis  Friendftiip  waits  to  give  advice, 

Juft  hear  her  fpeak,  and  then  away. 

While  wand'ring  o'er  the  ftormy  deep, 

Refign  thyfelf  to  Virtue 's  fway ; 
Let  Rettitude  thy  bofom  keep, 

And  Peace  (hall  gild  each  fleeting  day. 

And  oft  as  with  reverted  eyes 

You  fighing  look  towards  your  home^ 
Remember,  that  benignant  fkies 

Protect  you  wherefoe'er  you  roam. 

Let  gratitade  di6tate  a  lay 

To  him  who  brought  thee  o'er  the  main,. 
Where  the  fair  iflands  greet  thine  eye, 

Where  fpring  and  autumn  jointly  reign; 

Tlio* 


:?o8  POEMS. 

9 

Tho'  fplendid  Pice 'with  dauntlefs  hand, 
There  flights  the  mafk  fhe  puts  on  here  ; 

Where  thoufands  court  her  lov'd  command,. 
And  worfhip  her  with  zeal  fmcere. 

Yet  when  her  gay,  her  frantic  train 

Would  tempt  thee  to  the  rounds,  they  run, 

Remember,  that  thou  art  a  man, 
That  thou  art  Eboracla's  fon. 

Nor  let  the  fenfelefs,  daring  proud, 
Who  flock  around  unwary  youth, 

Perfuade  thee  to  the  impious  croud 

Who  mock  at  God,  and  hate  the  truth*. 

But  all  thy  days  to  Wifdom  give, 
Improve  the  moments  as  they  flv  ; 

So  malt  thou  like  the  righteous  live ; 
Soihalt  thou  like  the  righteous  die. 


A  VERSION  of  pan  of  the  yh  Chapter  of  JOB. 

1791. 

jLJLS  fighs  the  lab'rer  for  the  cooling  made, 
When  glowing,  fun-beams  fcorch  the  verdant 

blade, 

Or  as  the  hireling  waits  the  fcanty  fum, 
By  the  hard  hand  of  painful  labour  won ; 

So 


POEMS.  309 

So  waits  my  fpirit,  with  anxiety, 

Death's  calm  approach,  from  woe 'to  fet  me 

free  ; 

For  oh  !   my  days  are  fpent  in  vanity, 
And  nights  of  forrow  are  appointed  me. 

I  love  not  life — it  is  a  burden  grown — 
Diflrefs  and  Care  have  claim'd  me  for  their 

own,. 

And  pale  Difeafe,  with  -unrelenting  hand, 
Sports  with  my  fighs,  and  cails    them  to  the 

wind. 

In  vain  doth  night  return  tofclefs  thefe  eyes; 
Sighing,  I  fay,  "  Oh  when  /hall  I  arile  ? 
"  When  will  the  night  be  gone  !"  Convuls'd 

with  pain, 

I  raife  my  eyes  to  heav'n/or  aid  in  vain  ; 
My  heart  grows  faint— and  toffing  to  and  fro; 
I  wafte  the  lonely  hours  in  fullen  woe. 

Or  if  indeed  my  e ,  es  fhould  chance  to  clofe, 
And  weary  nature  gain  a  (light  repofe, 
Then  am  \  feared  with  terrifying  dreams  ; 
Wild  mrieks  I  hear,  and  melancholy  fcreami, 
While  hideous  fhapes  croud  on  my  troubled 

fight, 

Adding  new  horrors  to  the  glooms  of  night. 

Qhf 


POEMS 

Oh  !   I'm  forlorn — in  bitternefs  of  foul 
My  cries  burfl  forth— like  floods  my  forrowv 

roll- 
Forgot — abandon'd— deftitute — alone — 
No  pitying  ear  inhales  the  heart-wrung  groan,. 
No  friendly  converfe  my  fad  fpirit  cheers, 
No  feeling  breaft  receives  my  bitter  tears ; 
Gone  is  each  comfort— hope  itfelf  is  fled ; 
O  that  I  refted  with  the  quiet  dead  ! 
No  glimpfe  of  good  mine  eyes  again  lhall  feer 
Let  me  alone — my  days  are  vanity. 

But  foft  my  griefs,  my  life  is  but  as  wind, 
Soon  will  it  pafs  and  leave  no  trace  behind ; 
Soon  will  my  aching  heart  a  refpite  have, 
LodgM  in  the  mould  Ving  chambers  of  the  grave, 
As  fleets  the  cloud  before  the  northern  blaft, 
So  doth  the  life  of  mortal  beings  hafte ; 
And  I  {hall  ilecp  in  duft — there  weary  pair* 
Shall  never  vex  my  anguifh'd  frame  again  : 
Then  tho*  adverjity,  with  iron  hand-, 
Shall  crufh  the  rijing  honours  of  the  land-, 
Tho'    war   may  wafte — and  Jicknefs  blaft  in 

death, 

The  foul  that  murder  fpar'd  upon  the  heath, 
Yet  mall  I  {lumber,  'midft  the  awful  roar, 
For  he  that  fleeps  in  death  {lull  wake  no  more> 

A  SALUTE- 


POEMS.  31 1 


SALUTE  to  the  Fourteenth  Anniverfary  of 
AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE. 


A 


.LL  hail  to  thy  return, 
0  !  ever  bleft  aufpicious  morn, 

By  mercy's  author  giv'n : 
See !  to  greet  the  happy  day 
Sol  expands  his  brighter!  ray, 
And  not  a  cloud  obfcures  his  way, 
INorihades  the  face  of  heav'n. 
More  fweetMw  day,  the  cannons  martial  roar, 
Than  all  the  dulcet  founds  which  mufic's  foul 

can  pour ; 

For  ev'ry  gale  that  o'er  Columbia  flies 
Bids  on  its  balmy  wings  fome  Paean  rife, 

Some  fong  of  Liberty ; 
And  ev'ry  peal  that  mounts  the  flues, 
In  folemn  tones  of  grandeur  cries, 

"  AMERICA  is  FREE  !" 
Sound,  O  Fame  !  thy  clarion  ftrong., 
Bear  the  golden  notes  along, 

Let  Gallia  hear  the  fong ; 
Beat  each  heart  with  pleafure  high, 

Flulh 


POEMS. 

Flufli  each  cheek  with  pureft  joy, 
Let  rapture  glitter  in  each  eye, 

And  tune  each  grateful  tongue. 
Hail !  Gland!—  long  may  old  time  behold 
Freedom  o'er  thee  herllandard  wide  unfold, 

While  ages  fhall  roll  on, 
'Till  to  a  chaos  finks  again  this  hall, 
5 Till  worlds  to  primogenial  nothing  fall, 

And  quench'd  thy  blaze,  O  fun ! 


WINTER. 

"November,  1791. 

vL/FT  times  the  wand'ring  Mufe  by  filence 

led, 
When  penfive  Night  hath  wrapt  the  world 

in  fleep, 

By  dewy  lawns  and  warbling  rills  hath  flray'd, 
Trdd  the  green  flope,  or  climb 'd  the  crag 
gy  fteep  ; 

Or,  by  the  margin  of  fome  weeping  ftream, 
Where  fpreads  foeftnfoivt  its  leafage  fair, 

Watch'd  thei/Jw'»f  quiv1  rings  of  the  lunar  beam> 
Or "feeble  glimmerings  of  fome  dlftantjlar ; 

Or, 


POEMS.  313 

Or,  where  fome  ragged  cliff,  with  lowering 
brow, 

Blackens  the  furface  of  the  fwelling  deep, 
Where  billows  dafh, and  howling  tempefts blow, 

Where  wizard Jhapes  their  nightly  revels  keep ; 

Or  on  the  flielly  fhores,  -wherejpirits  roam, 
Sounding  the ir  forrows  to  the  midnight  gale, 

While  round  their  fteps  the  reftlefs  waters  foam, 
And  hollow  caves  refpond  the  difmal  wail. 

There  (as  upon  the  flood  floats  the  moon's  rays, 
And  rolling  planets  ihed  their  filv'ry  light;) 

There i  wrapt  in  mufmgs  deep,  and  ftedfaft  gaze, 
In-folemn  rapture  hath  fhe  pail  the  night. 

But  now  the  frighted  Mufe  thefe  fcenes  forfakes, 
Quits  the  gay  foreft  and  enamel'd  plain, 

The  fliadowy  vales,  the  fmooth  pellucid  lakes, 
For  Winter  comes  with  all  his  bluflering 
train — 

He  rolls  his  rapid  ftorms  along  the  fkies ; 

With  tumult  fraught,  the  raving  temper!: 

roars ; 
O'er  the 'broad  beach  the  heaving  furges  rife, 

Groan  in  the  winds,  and  foam  along  the  fliores. 

E  e  With 


314  POEMS, 

With  hafty  wing  the  vernal  feafon  flies, 
Some  happier  dime,  v/ith  fmijes  benign  to 
charm, 

While  the  keen  arfiic  whittles  round  our  fkies5 
And  the  tall  foreft  nods  before  the  ftorm. 

Defpotic  Time,  who  guides  the  changing  year., 
Blafts  the  fair  fcenes  that  rofe  at  his  command, 

And  weeping  Nature,  defolate  and  drear, 
.Owns  the  fad  traces  of  his  fpoiling  hand: 

And  yet,  again  fhall  this  fame  hand  unfold 
Winter's  cold  gates,  and  bid  the  fountains 
flow; 

Make  rofy  Spring  profufely  pour  her  gold, 
And  bid  her  bloflbms  wear  a  richer  glow. 

The  lark  fhall  quit  the  folitary  bufh, 

Smooth  her  foft  plumes,  and  tune  her  warb 
ling  tongue, 

While  from  fome  copfe  the  late  dejected  thrufli 
Cheers  the  glad  vail  ies  with  a  fprightlyfong. 

Ceafe  then, O  Mufe  !  to  drop  the  ufelefs  tear, 
Ah !  touch  no  more  the  melancholy  firing, 
Since  Earth  again  the  blooms  of  life  fhall  wear, 
ry  glosms  give  place  to  failing  Spring. 

FRIENDSHIP. 


POEM'S. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

January,  1792. 

RIENDSHIP!     I  hate  thy  name— my 

rancled  heart, 
'  Forever  wounded  by  thy  treacherous  hand, 

*  Bleeding  afrelh  defies  the  pow'rof  art, 

'  Its  pangs  to  foften,  or  extract  the^imart ; 
4  For  who,  ah  who  can  draw  the  bitter  dart 
4  Implanted  by  a  chofen,  bofom  friend? 

*  Too  long  I  harbour'dthee  within  my  breafl, 

*  Thou  bafe  deftroyer  of  my  reft  ; 

*  Too  long  thy  galling  yoke  did  bear: 

*  For  while!  cherifh'dthee  with  fofteringcare, 

*  Thou  didft  thy  pois'nous  fting  prepare, 

*  And  wrung  the  heart  that  fondly  theecareft. 

'  But  now  adieu,  thy  reign  is  o'er, 

*  For  thee  that  heart  no  longer  figlis ; 
'  And  at  thy  voice  (hall  joy  no  more 

*  Suffufe  this  cheek,  nor  grace  thefe  eyes. 
'  Thy  ev'ry  tranfport  I'll  forego, 

*  Thy  ibv'reignty  difclaim  ; 
*  And  if  no  more  tityfweets  I  know, 
6  I  know  no  more  thy  pain. 

E  e  2  *  Tranquil 


316  POEMS., 

4  Tranquil  my  hotirs  fhall  glide  away, 
'  No  more  a  prey  to  poignant  woes  ; 

*  Content  (hall  blefs  each  rifing  day, 

'  And  charm  each  night  with  calm  re- 
pofe. 

*  No  more  fhall  tears  flray  down  my  cheek, 

*  Wak'd  by  thy  fympathetic  voice, 

*  Nor  griefs,  too  big  for  utterance,  break 

'  An  injur'd  heart  that  venerates  thy  ties ; 
'Nor ^/w- all  eloquent  a  language  teach, 

'  That  mocks  the  idle  power  of  fpeech.' 
I'husy  once  in  anguiih'd  mood  I  wept  andfung ; 
.Warm  from  the  heart  th'  unfeeling  accents 

fprung ; 
For  Perfidy  scold  touch  had  chill'd 

Each  fof  ter,  gentler  motion  there, 
And  ev'ry  painful  chafm  had  fill'd 

With  weak  mijlrujl  -M\&  fretful  care* 
But  vain  I  fought  thofe  fcenes  of  blifs, 

Which  Fancy's  flattering  pencil  drew ; 
When  the  delights  of  fmiling  Peace. 

Each  hour  mould  brighten  as  it  flew : 
With  Friend/flip  ev'ry  joy  had  fled, 

With  /Breach  rapture  took  its  flight ; 

Nor  longer  charm'd  the  branching Jkade> 

Noi fragrant  mornt  \uz\fyangled  night. 


POEMS.  317 

In  vain  for  me  the  fongfter  fwelPd  Its  throat, 
In  vain  the  buds  their  moiften'd  fweets  dif- 

clofe  ; 
Nor  cheered  their  glowing  tints,  rust  footed  the 

note  ; 
Alas  I  the  felrifh  heart  no  pleafure  knows. 

*  Ah,  Hope/'&gh'd  I,  «  are  thefe  thy  profFer'd 

joys  ? 

4  Are  thefe  the  hours  of  blifs  that  fhould  be 
mine  ? 

*  Few  have  I  known  fmce  loos'd  from  Friend  • 

{hip's  ties/ 

Again  my  vows  I  offer'd  at  her  flirine. 
Sudden,  as  from  CaftaHa's  favour'd  fpring, 

As  fweet,  as  foft  a  tone  I  hear, 
As  ever  floated  on  mild  Evening's  wing, 

Or  footh'd />#/<?  Echo's  ear. 
Caught  by  theflram,  each  tear  forgot  to  flow? 
Each  bitter  rifmg  murmur  flraight  repreft  j 
When,  with  enchanting  air  and  placid  brow, 

The  lovely  fair  Callfta  flood  con fe ft. 
In  feelings  loft,  tumultuoufly  fweet, 

Exultingly  I  own'd  her  gentle  fway, 
And  bleft  the  heart  whofe  fympathetic  beat 
Hail'd  the  young  dawn  of  Friendjhifi $  rifmg 
day. 

E  e  3  To. 


318  POEMS. 


To  the  Reverend}*** 

January,  179!. 

JTlERE,  late,  where  Ruins  ftaudard  was  un- 

furl'd, 

And  bloody  iiwlaid  wafte  our  weflern  world, 
The  mildeft  beams  of  Peace  benign  are  med, 
And  Piety  exalts  her  conquering  head  j 
Age  finds  her  flow'rypath,  and  heedlefs  youth, 
Submiffive  kneels  the  advocate  of  truth  \ 
With  fplrlts  chang'd  we  think  of  feuds  no 

more, 

But  greet  oui'feniors  on  a  diftant  fhore; 
Tho'  barren  wilds  and  mountains  intervene, 
And  the  Atlantic  rolls  her  floods  between. 

Will  then  fair  Qlney  s  aged  bard  excite 
The  weak  exertions  of  a  youthful  mufe  ? 
The  genuine  wifhes  of  whofe  heart  fincere, 
&\\  glowing  breathe  to  heaven  for  him  a  pray 'r. 

Long  may'ft  thou  to  thy  land  a  blefling  be, 
And  many  fruits  of  thy  kind  labours  fee ; 
May  Patience  foothe  thee  in  thy  worldly  cares, 
And  a  bright/<2/M  light  thy  declining  years  ; 
*Tiil  late  our  GOD   ihall  call   the   Wanderer 

home, 

And  bid  the  longing,  hoping  exile,  "  come." 

Then 


POEMS.  319 

*?hen  may  thy -foul,  upborne  on  angel's  wing, 
Fleet  to  the  realms  of  everlafting  love ; 
With  raptur'd  myriads  ^fory's  fource  to  fing, 
And  all  the  fullnefs  of  Emanuel  prove. 


To  the  MOON. 

April,   179*0 

W  HILE  wandVing  through  the  dark  blue 

vault  of  heaven, 

Thy  tracklefs  fteps  purfue  their  fi  lent  way? 
And  from  among  the  ftarry  hoil  of  ev-'ii, 
Thou  ihed'll  o'er  Jlumbering  earth  a  milder 

day; 
And  when  thou  pour'ft  abroad  thy  fhadowy 

light 

Acrofs  the  ridgy  circles  of  the  flream, 
With  raptur'd  eyes,  O  changeful  nymph  of 

night  ! 
I  gaze  upon  thy  beam. 


GREAT  was  the:  /ted'  that  form'd  thy  round, 

O  Moon! 

That   mark'd  the  precindls  of  thy  fleady 
wheel,., 

That 


3*0  POEMS. 

That  bade  tliee  fmile  on  JV^r*s  oblivious 

noon, 

And  rule  old  Ocean's  folemn  fwell ; 
GREAT  was  the  POWER,  that  fill'd  with  ra>- 

diant  light 
Thofe  Worlds  unnumb'errd,   which  from 

pole  to  pole 

Hang  out  their  golden  lamps  to  deck  thy  flight, 
Or  gild  the  Planets  which  around  thee  roll.^ 

From  realms  of  Love,  beyond  where  moves 

the  Sun, 

Whofe  diftant  beams  create  our  brighteft  day, 
Beyond  where  Stars  their  ceafelefs  circles  run-, 
Or  lurid  Night  emits  his  opaque  ray; 

Mounted  on  the  darkening  itorm, 
On  the  ftrong  whirlwind's   ragged  pinions 

borne, 

With -gkry  circamfus'd,  the  Source  of  Bllfs 
Sublime,  came  flying  o'er  the  vafl  abyfs. 

His  voice  was  heard — in  dire  difmay 
Chaotic  Darknefs  fled  away, 
While  burfting  waves  of  Light  the  flight  be 
held, 
all-  the  fpacious  void  triumphant  fill'd. 

Without 


POEM'S'.  32* 

Without  delay,  this  reftlefs  ball 
Uprofe,  obedient  to  his  call ; 

But  that  he  fpake  it  into  light, . 
It  ft  ill  had  flumber'd  in  eternal  night : 

The  mountains  rear'd  their  verdant  head,1 

The  hills  their  deftin'd  places  found, 
And  as  the fountains  pour'd  their  waters  rouad, 

Ocean  fubmiffive,  wander 'd  to  her  bed  ; 
The  Sun-  arofe — with  beam  benign  he  (hone, 
And  terra  cheer'd  with  fplendours  all  his  own, 

"  Go  gild  the  morn,'*  his  maker  faid. 

Impatient  to  obey, 

O'er  half  the  globe  his  rays  he  fpready 
And  blaz/d  along  the  day. 

Then  waft  thou  form'd  with  all  the  ftarry  traifr 
That  decorate  the  ev'ning  ikies  ; 

Some  made  to  travel  through  the  fapphire  plain, 
And  fome  forbid  tp.fet  or  rife. 

Long  haft  thou  reigned,  and  from  thine  amber 

throne 

The  various  changes  of  this  worldhzft.  known  ; 
Haft  feen  its  myriads  into  being  rife, 

Shine  their  mort  hour,  and  then  their  life 

reii.gn ; 


POEMS. 

New  generations  feize  the  fickle  prize, 

And  like  their  fires,  but  ftrengthen  to  decline: 
Yet  be  not  vain,  (though  fi nee  thy  natal  day 
Some  thousand  years  their  circling  courfe 

have  made) 
For  lo  !  the  eera  haftens  on  apace, 

When  all  thy  glory  ihall  for  ever  fade. 
Earth  mall  the  revolution  feel, 

The  change  of  feafons  mall  be  o'er, 
Time  fhall  forget  to  guide  his  wheel, 
And  thou,  O  Moon,  fhalt/rt  to  rife  no  more  ! 


DA 


SILENCE. 

Philadelphia,  1792*- 

>Y  flow  retreats  on  mowery  wing, 
And  Evening  climbs  the  eaftern  fkies ; 
The  hovering  vapours  round  the  mores  arife, 
Or  to  the  tall. rock's  frowzy  fummit  cling: 
The  hum  of  bufy  care  is  done, 
A  welcome  refpite  twilight  brings  ; 
And  in  the  ear  of  Labour's  fon, 
The  lulling  fong  of  Quiet  (ings. 
All,  all  is  dill  and  peaceful  as  the  grave, 
Save  where  the  Delaware* sdiltyat  billows  roatv 

When: 


POEMS.  32-3 

X 

When  driven  by  rufliing  gales,  the  yielding 

wave 

Throws  its  white  waters  on  the  echoing  fhore. 
Hark  !  the  {brill  quail  wi:h  deep  fwoln  note 
Breaks  the  dumb  filence  of  the  fcene: 
The  waking  breezes  fullen  round  it  float, 
Fold  their  foft  wings  >  and  fink  to  reft  again. 

/Hail,  lonely  hour  !   enchanting  Silence  hail ! 

When  no  Jntrufive  found  thy  realm  invades, 
When  fervent  thought  can  pierce  Nig/ifs 

clofeft  veil, 

And  rife  exulting  o'er  fur  round  ing  {hades ; 
•Say,  will  Day's  glories  with  thy  clouds  compare, 
Where  boifterous  Tumult  rolls  his  thundering 

car? 

Or,  can  Apollo's  blazing  beams  difFufe 
O'er  the  fad  heart,  furcharg'd  with  grief, 
So  kind  a  balm — fo  fweet  relief, 
As  thy  foft  winds  and  od'rous  dews  ? 
Ah  !  well  thy  power  I  know,  while  wander 
ing  here, 

:Far,  very  far  from  all  my  heart  holds  dear; 
Where,  while  remembrance  brings  their  image 

near, 
Down  my  pale  cheek  tear  follows  tear; 

And 


POEMS. 


And  the  big  figh,  -in  vainfuppreft, 
Urges  a  pafiage  from  a  fwelling  breafl: 
Y'€t  do  I  know  thy  Toothing  power  e'en  here, 
Though  far—  ah  me,  how  far  from  all  my  heart 
holds  dear  ! 


To  ETHELINDE. 


K 
O  longer  let  me  weep  a  prey  to  love, 
Sad  victim  to  ill-fated  paffion's  fway  ; 
A  thoufandy%/fo  will  ne'er  their  fource  remove, 
Nor  tears  its  fond  remembrance  wafh  away. 

Ah  me  !  -  -when  finks  the  heart  by  griefs  dcpreft^ 
AnAJfrope  denies  her  balmy  foothings  fweet, 
"And  bufy  Memory  wrings  the  bleeding  bread; 
y/ien,  furely,  then  is  wretchednefs  complete. 

Come  Hope,  in  Ethdinde's  enchanting  form, 
Come  bid  my  ufelefs  tears  forbear  to  flow  ; 

Check  the  wild  paflions  in  my  breaft  that  dorm, 
Rude  as  the  gufts  o'er  Erie's  furfs  that  blow. 

Why  fhould  I  grieve  ?*—  no  fwain  with  artful 

tongue 
Has  broke  the  vows  I  ventured  to  approve; 

Alma\  TRUTH  my  eafy  heart  has  won, 
Whofe  form  is  beauty  and  whofe  voice  is  hue. 

Does 


POEMS.  325 

Doeslie  not  feel  ?— why  then  that  frequent  figh 
When  grief  or  ficknefs  cloud  my  penfive  face? 

Or  why  that  pleafure  fparkling  in  his  eye, 
When  cheerfulnefs  and  health  refume  their 
place  ? 

Why  does  his  cheek  with  fudden  flumes  glow, 
From  a  fhort  abfence  when  we  meet  again  ? 

Or  why  dejection  hang  upon  his  brow,. 
When  other  fav'rites  my  attention  claim  ? 

Oh !  if  he  loves — with  paflion  fuch  as  mine — 
Life's  varying  fcenes  how  eafy  ihall  I  find  ? 

How  light  will  be  the  woes  of  CAROLINE  ? 
How  rich  the  pleasures  ihaf'd  with  fuch  a 
mind? 

But— if -I  mxift  a  common  lot  deplore — 

Oh  !  if  my  ALMA  chufe  fome  happier  fair, 

Then  will  I  fly  to  fome  forgotten  fhore, 
And  wafte  my  forrows  on  the  defert  air. 

Ha! — will  the  foreft's  echoing  glooms  be 
found 

More  cheering  than  the  voice  of  Ethellnde  f 
What ! — can  eternal  abfence}\Q3\  my  wound, 

Or  blot  his  lov'd  idea  from  my  mind  ? — 

Ff  No 


POEMS, 

No,  furely,  no — firm  as  the  earth's  broad  bafe 
Are  my  affections  round  his  virtues  twin'd; 

And  Time,  beneath  whofe  touch  all  elfe  decays, 
Serv.es  but  the  ligaments  more  clofe  to  bind. 

Then  will  I  ftay,  a  votary  to  his  charms, 
And,  kneeling  viffor  at  Submiffion's  fhrine, 

Clafp  the  bleft  woman  in  my  conquering  arms, 
And  .all  the  heart  that  once  was  mine  to  her 
refign. 

To  the  fame. 

1792. 

!  ceafe  the  "  dirge  like  lay,*'  my  Ethe- 

lindc  ; 

Wipe  off  the  tear  that  quivers  in  thine  eye, 
Nor  let  the  bofom  of  my  beft  lov'd  friend 
Heave  with  the  deep  but  unavailing  figh. 

On  the  broad  pinions  of  unwearied  Time 
Our  months  and  days  are  fwiftly  borne  away, 

And  each  fucceeding  hour,  in  conftant  chime, 
Configns  fome  dear  enjoyment  to  decay. 

Jige  fteals  the  rofe  from  the  dejected  cheek. 
And  plants  hisenfignsonth'  un  will  ing  brow^ 

Cheerfulnefs  %hs-— and  Wit  forgets  to  (peak, 
Loft  in  eternal  torpor — Oh  what  woe  ! 

But 


POEMS. 

zV/",  (ah  me,  how  well  the  truth /know  !) 
Grief,  with  officious  hand,  propels  us  on, 
Urges  our  fpeed,left  Time  mould  move  too  flow, 
And  ere  we  reach  Life's  noon,  our  fun  goes 
down* 

Ceafe  then  to  weep,  my  beauteous  Ethelinde,. 

Ceafe  thine,  own  rugged  path  with  thorns  to 

ftrew ; 
Oh  check  thofe  griefs  I  know  not  to  befriend, 

Nor  give  aloofe  to  fuch  immoderate  woe  ! 

What !  mall  my  cares  on  ALMA  reft  alone  ? 

Shall  all  thy  wifhes  to  MYRTILLO  fly  ? 
And  (hall  the  heart  that  meets  no  kind  return, 

Burft — coward  like — and  bleed  its  channel 
dry? 

No,  Ethelinde,  with  generous  pride  I  burn, 
ALMA,  the  noble  ALMA,  Ireiign; 

And  tho'  my  heart  awhile  its  lofs  may  mourn, 
It  never  to  relenting  mall  incline. 

The  gracious  Power  whofe  word  hath  given 

us  life, 

And  mixt  our  cup  with^&o/ttriaod  \v\t\\pain, 
Will  ftrength  afford  to  pafs  the  mental  ilrife, 
Or  ftrength  at  leaft  the  conflict  tofujiain. 
F  f  i  Oh ! 


328  POEMS. 

Oh  !  would  but  man  enjoy  the  bleffings  given v 

How  many  tears  had  never  learn'd  to  flow  ! 

How  few  deep  fighs  had  wing'd  their  courfe  to 

heaven ! 

How  few  the  hearts  furcharg'd  with  help- 
lefs  woe  ! 

For  us  young  Evening  meds  her  foft  perfumes ; 

For  us  blith  Morn  expands  her  golden  eyes ;. 
Foray  the  Sun  heav'n's  azure  arch  illumes ; 

Andforefts  bloom  for  us,  and  oceans  rife. 

But  oh  !  the  ingrate  man,  with  felnfh  mind,: 
He  fpurns  the  blifs  which  heav'n.  defign'd 
his  owrn  \ 

His  airy  wiih  outftrips  the  hafly  wind, 
And  grafps  at  raptures  never  to.be  known* 

In.  efforts  vain  he  toils  away- his  days, 
Purfuing  Fancy -\\\\\QY  mad  career  ; 

Though  ftill  deceiv'd,  hcftill  her  call  obeys, 
And  links  at  la-ft — the.  victim  of  Befpatr. 

Such  is  vain  man's-— and  fudi  hath  been  our  lot, 
Such  the  dim  mift  that  dark'd our  earlieft  years; 

Fixt  on  our  happiefl  hours  a  lafting  blot, 
And  bath'd  each  following  day  in  heart- 

iv run?  tears. 

Wheia, 


POEMS.  329 

Where  are  the  golden  joys  we  once  have  known? 
Where  the  calm  comforts  which  for  us  have 

bloom'd  ? 
Smooth,  gliding  fcenes  of  peace  !  they  all  are 

gone, 
All  bv  oblivious  Sorrow — all  entomb'd. 

Oh  !  fad  regret,  the  feeling  heart  beats  full, 
Vain  prove  th'  attempts  wild  nature  to  fubdue : 

My  lyre  is  (truck  with  wandering  hand  and  dull, 
While  lawlefs  tears  the  paufing  ftrings  bedew. . 


Qn  feeing  a  Print,  exhibiting  the  Ruins  of  the* 

Bailic. 


XTLT  each  return  of  the  aufpicious  day 
Which  laid  thfs  mighty  fabric  in  the  duft,. 
Let  joy  infpire  each  patriotic  breail 

To  blefs  and  venerate  its  auguft  ray  ; 

Let  GW/jtf's  fons  attune  the  harp  of  joy, . 

And  teach  the  trump  its  boldeft  notes  t'  em- 
ploy  ; 

Let  clarions  flirill  the  deed  declare, 
And  blow. their  fon'rous  notes  afar; 

Ffr  Let 


330 

Let  mufic  rife  from  ev'ry  plain, 

Each  vine-clad  mount  or  daified  dell  _ 

And  let  JEdus  float  the  (train 
Acrofs  old  Ocean's  ample  fwell. 

Ah  !  fee  ti\t'Baftille>$  iron  walls  thrown  down. 

That  bulwark  ftrong  of  Tyranny; 
See  her  proud  turrets  fmoke  along  the  ground, 

Crufh'd  by  the  giant  arm  of  Liberty! 
Her  gloomy  towers — her  vaults  impure, 

Which  once  could  boaft  eternal  night; 
Her  dungeons  deep— her  dens  obfcure, 

Are  urg'd  unwilling  to  the  light. 

Oft  in  thefe  dreary  cells,  the  captive's  rnoaa  i 
Broke  the  dead  filence  of  the  midnight  watch ; 

When  Memory,  pointing  to  the  days  long  gone, 
To  wafting  for  rows  woke  the  feeling  wretch. 

Here  everlafting  Darknefs  fpread 
Her  veil  o'er  feenes  of  mifery, 
Where  Sicknefs  heav'd  an  anguifjbt^d  head, 

And  roll'd  a  hopelefs  eye. 
Here  drown'd  in  tears,,  pale  Agony 
Spread  her  clafp'd  hands  toward  the  fky, 
While  all  convuls'd,  extreme  Dcfpair 
Swallow'd  the  earth  in  fpeechlefs  rage, 
Or  phrenzied  gnaw'd  his.  iron  cage,. 
Tore  off  his  flem,  and  rent  his  hair. 

Such 


331 

Such  were  thy  glories,  O  Baftille  ! 

Such  the  rich  bleffings  of  defpoticpovu^r^ 
Whofe  horrid  daemon  quaffyd  his  fill,- 

Daily  of  bitter  tears  and  human  gore: 
But  now  'tis  o'er — thy  long,  long  reign  is  o'er, 
Thy  thunders  fright  the  trembling  hofts.no 

more ; 

Thy  fhafts  are  fpent-— thy  fons  no  more  engage 
To  add  new  triumphs  to  thy  train, 
To  bind  -new  victims  to  thy  chain  ; 
For  thy  moft  valiant  fons  are  flam 
By  the  fierce  ftrokes  of  kindled  patriot  rage. 
Roll'd  in  the  duft,  behold  thine  honours  lie, 
The  fport— the  fcorn  of  each  exploring  eye0 

Hail 'gallant  Gauls  !  heroic  people  hail  I 
Who  fpurn  the  ills  that  Virtue's  fons  aflail,  , 
Whofe  hearts  benevolent,  with  ardour  bound 
The  hard-*got:bleflmg  to  diiFtife  around : 
Oh-!  he  your  Uruggles  bleft,  and  may.you  fee 
Your  labours  rivall'd  by  pofterity ; 
'Till  the  {m*\\ flame  ( which  firft  was  feen  to  rife, 
*Midft   threat'ning  blafts,  beneath  Columbian 

ikies, 

Which,  as  it  taught  its  fplendours  to  expand, 
Arcfe  indignant  from  Oppreflion's  hand, 

And 


332  FOE  MS. 

And  blaz'd  effulgent  o'er  the  mighty  plain) 
Luring  your  heroes  o'er  the  ftormy  main, 
'Till  this  fmall  flame,  fed  by  their  nurturing 

hand, 

Not  only  canopies  your  native  land, 
But  far  extending  its  prolific  rays, 
Envelopes  neighbouring  empires  in  the  blaze. 
Andthou,  FAYETTE  !  whom  diftant  lands  de 
plore, 

As  now  felf-banij/f  d  from  thy  native  fhore  ; 
Tho'  zeal  miftaken,  may  a  ihadow  throw 
Athwart  the  laurels  which  adorn  thy  brow ; 
Yet  fhall  they  bloom—for  in  thy  generous 

breaft 

No  foul  like  Coriolanus  is  confefs'd: 
To  Galli a  ftill  thy  war  me  ft  wimes  tend^ 
And  tho'  an  injured  exile,  dill  a  friend  ! 
When  grateful  nations  tell  thine  a&s  to  Famey 
America  fhall  urge  her  oldeft  claim, 
Point  to  the  worthies  whom  her  fons  revere, 
And  place  FAYETTE  with  thofe  fhe  holds  moft- 
dear. 


POEMS. 


333 


20  the  Memory  of  Mrs.  HENRIETTA  ANNA 
MARIA  DUBUISSON*.. 

Odlober,   3794* 

V-/ H  !  lovely  vifion  !  art  thou  gone  ? 

Doft  thou  repofe  in  Death's  dull  made? 
Are  all  thy  boafted  glories  flown  ? 

Doft  thou  too  reft  among  the^dead  ? 

Oh,  faireft  flower  that  ever  bloom'd 
To  deck  life's  variegated  fcene, 
How  mort  liv'd  have  thy  beauties  been  ?; 

No  fooner  open'd  than  entomb'd  ! 

With  rifmg  joys  Hope  ftrew'd  thy  way, 
And  Hygea's  rpfes  deck'd  thy  brow  ; 

Lovely,  and  young,  and  good,  and' gay, 
Thou  wert — but  ah.!  what  art  thou  now  ? 

Cold — lifelefs — dead — a  fenfelefs  clod — 
To  death's  chill  grafp  an  early  prey; 

Frail  as  the  tenants  of  the  fod 

Which  fhrouds  thee  from  the  face  of  day. 

Let  frantic  Mirth  be  penfive  here ; 

Here  let  Youth  weep  its  tranfient  bloom  ; 
Here  let  vain  Beauty  drop  a  tear, 

For  Harriet  moulders  in  the  tomb. 

Come., 


334  POEMS. 

Come,  weeping  Mufe,  come  form  a  wreath 
To  deck  the  turf  where  beauty  lies  ; 

Where  the  (oft  winds  of  Evening  breathe, 
Where  Morning's  fweeteit  dews  arife. 

But  wherefore  mourns  my  heart  thine  early 
doom, 

Or  ftrays  in  weeping  filence  round  thy  grave  ? 

Can  the  dull  ear  of  Death  my  fighs  receive  ?• 
Or  dwells  the  aethereal  being  in  the  tomb? 

No,  burfting  from  Death's  dark  confines, 
And  wand'ring  on  die  gales  of  even, 

It  wings  its  flight  to  happier  climes, 
And  gains  at  laft— its  long  wim'd  heaven, 

Tellme,  fair  effence,  when  released  from  clay, 
Thy  pinions  open'd  in  a  land  unknown, 
Did  no  kind  angel  haftc  on  purple  plume, 

To  hail  thee  fafe — and  guide  thee  on  thy  way  ? 

Did  not  the  echoing  Lyra's  melting  flrain 
Obliterate  the  memory  of  each  tear, 
To  rapture  foothe  each  yet  remaining  fear, 

And  urge  thy  wond'ring  fpirit  from  its  chain  ? 

It  did— it  did— the  folemn  (trains 

Seem  to  vibrate  on  my  enchanted  ear  ; 
Andwilder'd  with  the  floating  tones  I  hear, 

JLife'i  ruby  current  warbles  in  my  veins. 

«  Welcome 


•*  Welcome  from  the  hands  of  Pain, 
t  Welcome  from  Sin's  baneful  pow'r, 

<  Welcome  from  D*ath\  drear  domain, 

'  Thou  lhalt  feel  their  ire  no  more. 

+  All  that  thou  haft  heard  below, 
•*  All  that  Angel  pow'rs  can  know, 

*  Peace  eternal,  joy  divine, 
4  Everlafting  love  are  thine. 

e  Let  the  garland  we  affume, 
'  Amaranth  with  myrtle  join'd, 

*  Flow'rets  of  perpetual  bloom, 

'  Thy  triumphant  temples  bind. 

<  Lo  !  the  walls  of  Paradife  ! 

<  Lo !  the  pearly  gates  unfold ! 
c  Darting  fplendours  down  the  ikies  ; 
'  Lucid  gems  and  fpark ling  gold. 

*  There  no  Sun,  with  dazzling  beam, 

*  Gilds  the  glowing  cheek  of  morn ; 

*  There  BO  Mo^n^  with  finile  ferene, 

'  Waits  mild  Evening's  calm  return: 

4  There  dwells  UNCREATED  LIGHT, 

'  Blazing  with  unfading  ray ; 
•*  Ne'er  we  know  returning  night — 

*  Bled  with  everlafting  day. 

'Hark!  j 


336  POEMS. 

<  Hark  !--*•  I  hear  the  warbling  throng 

*  Hail  thee  to  thy  native  home ; 

*  Hark  !  their  Lyras  bid  thee  come— 

*  Hafte,  fair  Angel, — hafte  along  ! 

fo  the  Memory  of  Mrs.  SCRIBA  and  her -infant 
Daughter. 

179*. 

X  HE  blafts  of  December  are  heard  on  the 

hills, 
They  have  fcatter'd  their  high-drifting  fnows 

o'er  the  plain ; 

The  breath  of  rough  Boreas  the  fountains  con 
geals, 

And  Flora  bemoans  her  blight'd  honours  in 
vain. 

The  Tulip  is  faded — its  tinges  are  fled— 
The  Violet  fhrinks  from  the  loud-howling 

gale ; 
And  the  foft  dewy  Rofe  droops  its  languifhing 

head, 

And  ceafes  its  balm-breathing  fweets  to  ex 
hale. 

Thy  wide  defolations,    oh  Emblem  of  Death  ! 
Spread  glooms  and  deje&ions  acrofs  the  fad 
mind; 

And 


POEMS.  337 

And  we  trace  a  \Q&  friend  in  each  bare  dreary 

heath; 

And  we  hear  their  lad  figh  in  the  voice  of 
the  wind. 

Yet  the  gambols  of  Spring  mall  thy  rigours  tin- 

bend, 
And  cherifti  the  fcenes  Maia's  abfence  that 

mourn  ; 
But  the  Winter  of  Death  hath  no  folace — no 

friend — 

Nor  buds  the  green  Spring  for  the  duft-bear- 
ing  Urn. 

On  the  cheek  of  our  LAURA  how  late  bloom'd 

the  'Rofc, 

And  Innocence  mot  from  her  eyes  its  foft  ray ; 
But  the  blufh  is  extinguifh'd— no  more  that 

cheek  glows— 
And  thofe  eyes  drink,  no  more  the  effulgence 
of  day. 

Wife,  Sifter,  Friend,  Parent,  ah  names  dear  in 

vain! 

As  fragile'and  fair  as  the  gay  clouds  of  dawn ; 
Ye  are  vanim'd,  alas !  like  the  breeze  on  the 

plain, 

And  all,  but  your  mournful  remembrance^  is 
gone. 

G  g  My 


33$  POEMS. 

My  fpirit  the  days  that  are  pafl  oft  reviews* 
And  peniively  treads  where  her  joys  were 

once  ftrewn ; 

While  a  fond  retrofpeftion  her  forrowSTenews, 
And  fhe  weeps  o'er  the  hours  that  for  ever 
are  flown. 

Like  fome  beautiful  flow'ret,  whofe  delicate 

form 
Still  delights,  tho'  o'erthrown  by  the  tem- 

peft's  rude  breath ; 

Thus  Laura,  tho'  preft  by  Affliction's  cold  rtorm., 
Yet  cheerfully  fmil'don  the  bofom  of  Death. 

Tho'  the  arrows  of  ^7g-w//#  a  flanked  her  frame, 
And  the  night  like  the  day  brought  no  footh-- 

ing  repofe ; 
And  tho'  faft  finking  Life  rent  each  languishing 


vein 


Not  a  f ingle  complaint,  not  a  murmur  arofe. 

•*  Ceafe  for  me,  weeping  friends,  the  SUPREME 

to  invoke ; 
*  I  leave  the  rough  pillow  of  Agony's  bed, 

*  To  reft  in  the  Regions  of  Glory' She 

fpoke, 
JW  th'  unfettcr'd  fpirit  exultingly  fled ! 

And 


POEMS.  339 

And  thou,  too,   ELIZA,  the  grafp  of  Dlfeafe 
Hath  cruih'd  thy  young  bloflbm  and  wafted 

thy  fvveets  ; 
And  the  Cherub  that  long'd  for  the  manfion  of 

Peace, 

From  the  darkforae  abode  of  Affllftlon  re 
treats. 

Yes,  the  wings  of  that  moment  which  fpeedecE 

her  flight 
To  the  bofom  of  LAURA,  beheld  her  con- 

vey'd 
Where  the  uncloying  fcenes  of  perpetual  de 

light 
Can  never  admit  of  a  paufe  nor  a  made. 

There  )  furely  the  day  of  diftrefs  hath  an  end  ; 

There,  parting  and  weeping  for  ever  are  o'er  - 

There,  the  Winter  of  Death  rinds  a  folace,  a 

friend  • 

And  there  buds  the  green  Spring,  to  be  rifled 
no  more. 

To  ETHELINDE. 


Jt~l  AIL  to  the  heart,  whofe  gen'rous  prider 

Can  burft  the  iron  bars  of  grief, 
Can  Love's  fantaflic  ills  deride, 

And  from  itfelf  procure  relief. 

Gg  3  If 


540  POEMS. 

If  tears  Oppreffion's  hand  would  gild, 
Or  fighs  a  feeble  refpite  yield ; 
Or  if  the  woes  remember'd  oft, 
By  repetition  grew  more  foft : 
Then  might  we  court  the  weeping 
O'er  our  fad  bofoms  to  diffufe 
Her  foothing  pow'r— in  melting  lay 
To  teach  M*Jing  our  griefs  away. 
But  ah!   how  well  (too  well)  /know 
Who  weeps,  he  but  indulges  woe ; 
And  every  briny  tear  that  flows 
Binds  to  the  heart  its  griefs  more.clofe. 

Rife  then, .my  foul,  with  ardour  rife, 
Expand  thy  wi flies  far  and  wide, 

Go  contemplate  the  ftarry  ikies, 
Go  emulate  thy  SEX'S  PRIDE. 

Ah  !   vain  attempt — on  pinions  ilrong 
She  foars  beyond  the  panting  wind ; 

And  all  enamour'd  of  her  fong, 

She  leaves  thee,  wondering  mufe,  behind... 

Shame  to  the  heart,  whofe  tranquil  beat 
Ne'er  felt  contending  paffions  keen  ; 

Ne'er  knew  the  vi£l'ries  of  defeat, 
When  Reajon  joy'd  o'er  Folly  fhin. 


POEMS.  341 

Yes — while  among  the  ftars  (lie  fhines, 

And  "  vifits  worlds  conceal'd  from  fight," 
A  humbler  theme  I  chufe  for  mine, 
The  Dufky  Dawn  and  Mifty  Night. 

I'll  drink  the  fparkling  dews  of  morn, 

And  watch  Apollo's  earlieft  ray; 
Or  greet  the  fhepherd's  mellow  horn, 

That  lulls  the  clofing  hours  of  day : 

Or,  bending  o'er  old  Ocean's  ftream, 
Mount  the  tall  Pico's  loftieft  brow, 

And,  guided  by  Cylene's  beam, 

Paufe  o'er  the  dljlant  world  below: 

Qr,  hanging  o'er  fome  cavern  dark, 

Where  troubled  waters  heave  and  fwellr 

Lift  to  Charlbdas  angry  bark, 
Or  howling  Scyllas  fearful  yell: 

Of,  mingling  with  th'  enthufiaft  throng, 
Who  to  Melpomene 's  harp  afpire, 

Mimic  CALISTA'S  melting  fong, 
Or  penfive  ELLA'S  weeping  lyre: 

Then  mourning  thro'  fome  forefl's  gloom, 
Ytomjlumbcring  couch  wake  Echo  palc\ 
And  pluck  the  blofToms  of  the  dale, 

To  deck  fomo  lonely  tomb. 

G  g  3  Such 


342  POEMS. 

Such  be  my  fongs^  while  Ethelinde, 
Smiling,  my  artlefs  labours  views  , 

Reward — the  beft  that  can  attend 
The  flights  of  CAROLINA'S  mufe. 


^VERSION  of  Mrs. }$AK'B>\VI*!D'>S  Tenth  Hymn. 


O 


1793. 


FFSPRING  of  woe,  what  mean  thofe  fighs« 
That  from  thy  burftirig  bofbm  heave  ? 
What  mean  thofe  gufhings  from  thine  eyes  ? 
What  haft  thou  feen  to  make  thee  grieve  ? 
Alas  !  alas  !   I've  feen  the  Rofe 
To  the  warm  Sun  its  leaves  expofe ; 
Elate>  it  drank  his  golden  ray, 
And  fpread  its  beauties  to  the  day. 

Again  I  look  V— that  very  beam 

Which  op'd  its  dewy  blooms  at  Morn, .. 
Smote  it  at  Noon,  and  on  the  ftem 

Had  only  left  therancling  thorn,] 
A  (lately  Tree  grew  on  the  plain  ; 

Wide  to  the  winds  its  boughs  were  fpread, 
Deep  in  the  earth  its  roots  were  lain, 

And  firm  its  mighty  trunk, was  made. 

Again 


POEMS.  343 

Again  Ilootfd— -the  Eajlern  Blaft 
Had  bid  its  emerald  glories  wafte; 
With  greedy  toothj  th'  ihfatiate  Worm  ' 
Had  rudely  piere'd  its  nobk  form ; . 
The  Axe  had  lopt  its  limbs  away, 
And  all  foretold  a  fwift  decay  1 . 

I've  feen  the  lovely  Infeft  throng 

Defporting  on  the  beams  of  morn, 
They  danc'd  the  bubbling  ftream  along, 

On. the  light  plumes  of  Zephyrs  borne; 
Their  azure  wings  were  fbr*d  with  gold, 

Their  bodies  ting'd  with  tyrian  hue 
Soft  d6wn'd*~ their  numbers  were  untold, 

And  quick  as  lightning's  glance  they  fle-w. 
Again  I  looked — the.EfVtning's  cool 

Had  chill'd  their  limbs  and  check'd  thair 

flight, 
The  Breeze  had  brufli'd  them  in  the  pool, 

They  died  before  the  mifts  of  night; 
The  Swallow  chofe  them  for  her  food,. 

They  fill'd  the  Pikis  voracious  maw, , 
And  of  fo  great  a  multitude,-. 

So  gay,  fo  fair— not  one  I  faw. 

Proud  of  his  flrength,  I've  feen  vain  Man, 
His  cheek  with  youthful  beauty  glow'd, 

He  walk'd,  he  danc'd,  he  leapt,  he  ran, 
And  quick  his  vig'rous  pulfes  flow'd: 


344  POEMS. 

Eloquence  dwelt  upon  his  tongue ; 

Science  his  fwelling heart  embraced; 
The  mountain  Echo  learnt  his  fong, 

And  ev'ry  charm  his  nature  grac'd, 

Again  I  looked — on  the  bare  ground 

Stiff  and  immoveable  he  lay ; 
Horror  and  fear  prevail'd  around, 

And  check'd  the  cheerful  fports  of  day: 
His  hands — his  feet  no  motion,  prov'd, 

No  fong  employ'd  his  tuneful  breath  ; 
From  light,  and  love,  and  fenfe  remov'd, 

A  prey  he  fell  to  ravenous  Death  ! 

Oh  let  me  weep  !   this  ravenous  Death. 

Lawlefs  o'er  earth  extends  his  fway ; 
Creation  feels  his  blighting  breath, 

Shrinks  from  his  touch  and  fades  away. 

Since  Shrub,  and  Beajl,  and  Man  in  vain 

Againft  the  mighty  Spoiler  ftrive, 
The  Sun,  and  Moon  and  Starry  train 

Shall  not  his  ruthlefs  pow'r  furvive: 
They  too  his  baleful  grafp  (hall  feel ; 

Earth  from  her  bound'ries  mall  retire, 
And  Sea  and  Mountain,  Rock,  and  Hillt 

And  Space  and  Time  iliall  all  expire  ! 


POEMS. 


Tib  e  following  Lines  were  Occajloned  by  Mr.  Ko 
fi  E  R  T  s  o  N  '5  rcfujing  to  -paint  for  one  Lady  ,  and' 
immediately  after  taking  another  Lady's  likenefs., 


\\T 

W  HEN  LAURA  appear  'cS,  poor  APPEI> 

LES  complain'd, 
That  his  fight  was  bedim'd,  and  his  optics 

much  pain'd  ; 

So  his  pallet  and  pencil  the  artift  refign'd, 
Left  the  blaze  of  her  beauty  Ihould  make  him. 

quite  blind, 

But  when  fair  ANNA  entered  the  profpecl  was 

chang'd, 
The  paints    and  the  brufhes-  in  order  were 

rang'd  ; 

The  ardft  refum'd  his  employment  again, 
Forgetful  of  labour,  and  blindnefs  and  pain  ; 
And  the  ftrokes  were  fb  lively  that  all  were 

affur'd 
What  the  brunette  had  injured  the  fair  one  had 

cur'd. 

Let  the  candid  decide  which  the  chaplet 

fhould  wear,. 
The   charms  which  deflroy,  or  the  charms^ 

which  repair. 


346  POEMS, 


To 


ES,  Nature  !  thou  art  lovely,  every  fcene 

Is  form'd  to  yield  the  throbbing  heart  delight ; 
Whether  thou  art  bedeck'd  in  changeful  green, 
Orihrink'ftbeneathafhroudoffparklJngu-1/^; 
Whether  whenAf^rw/^  mountshercrimfon  car, 
Wakes  the  young  gales,  and  gihh  the  eaftern 

main ! 

Or  when  grey  Evening  lights  her  fav'rite  ftarr 
And  (hapes  fantaftic  glide  along  the  plain; 
For  in  thy  Gaiety  the  Lover  finds 

Some  faint  refemblance  of  his  darling  fair, 
And  trufts  the  rivulet  or  courteous  winds 

May  to  her  ear  his  tale  impaflion'd  bear ; 
And  when  hoar  Winter  ftorms  along  the  fkies, 

And  frights  old  Ocean  with  the  fearful  roar, 

The  Wanderer  forlorn,  treads  the  bleak  ihore, 
Mingling  with  waves  and  winds  his  tears  and 
fighs: 

Yet  'tis  afolace  to  his  mifery, 

The  howling  whirlwind  and  ihefurging  fea. 
How  oft,  Oh  Summer  !  have  thy  jocund  hours 

Flown  difregarded  o'er  my  head  ? 

Alas! 


POEMS.  347 

Alas !  I  courted  not  their  foftening  pow'rs, 
Since  all  I  lovM  from  me  was  fled. 

Ah  !   then  I  hied  me  to  the  pebbly  fhore, 
And  o'er  the  waves  would  cafta  tearful  eye, 
With  the  vain  hope  my  CYRILLE  to  efpy, 

And  prefs  him  to  my  aching  heart  once  more : 
The  war  of  ruJJiing  Jlorms  and  Ocean's  how /, 
Were  the  lov'd  foothers  of  my  anguifh'd  fouL 

Cheer'd  with   his  love  again,   thy   charms/ 

O  Spring! 

Rife  with  redoubled  foftnefs  on  my  view ; 
\  love  the  breath  oO/or^mild  Evening9 &  dew, 

And  all  the  vary  ing  fcenes  thy  reign  canbring; 

Yet,   Veft  of  all  thou  haft,   ah !   I  fhould  not 
repine, 

While  LOVE  and  CYR-ILLE  I  could  claim  as 
mine. 


ARRIA's  TOMB. 

P 

JT  RIDE  of  the  peaceful  folkary  Nigfit, 

While  now  thou  cheer'ftherfolemn  gloom ; 
Through  thefe  damp  /hades  a  weeping  Wan 
derer  light, 

And  guide  my  pendve  fteps,  to  Arrio?s  tomb : 

There 


POEMS, 

There  will  I  vent  the  anguifh  of  my  foul, 
Bathing  my  locks  in  Night's  unwholefome 

dew, 
While  fierce  around  my  head  the  fhrill  gales 

howl, 

And  fpe£hres  pale,  the  fliades  of  Night purfue : 
But  fee*  zjpirit  fleets  before  mine  eye  ; 
Ah  !  -well -I  know  that  anguifh  loaded  figh ; 
It  is  my  Arna\  form  ;  yes,  dear  forlorn  ! 
Thy  Georgianna  weeps  upon  thine  urn. 
Thou  feeble  ghoft,  whofe  tears  yet  feem  to  fall 
Down  a  dejected  cheek,  all  cold  and  pale  ; 
As  fad  thou  glid'ft  along  the  moon-gilt  wall, 
And  lift'neft  to  the  Night-biriT.s  chilling  wail. 
Dear  weeping  lilly,  did  not  once  Health's  rofe 
Blofibm  upon  thy  cheek  wi  th  lovelieft  grace  ? 
Did  not  once  Peace  within  thy  breaft  repofe, 
And  tranquil  Cheerfulnefs  beam  through  thy 
face? 

C)h,  LOVE!  what  haft  thou  done  ?  thy  lawlefs 

pow'r 

Subdu'd  a  heart  too  gen'rous  to  deceive ; 
But,  ah  !  unpitied,  it  but  beat  to  grieve  ; 
Scorn,  cruel  Scorn!   embittering  every  hour. 
Shut  from  the  world,  fhe  bore  her  griefs  alone, 
And  of  life  carelefs,  wept  her  hours  away  ; 
While  Death,  exulting  o'er  his-precious  prey, 
Croptthefweetbloffom  ere  it  yet  was  blown. 

Oh, 


POEMS.  349 

Oh,  thou  hard  heart,  where  PITY  never  dwelt ! 

May  dire  AfflMon  mark  thee  for  her  own  ; 
May'ft  thou  endure  pangs  worfe  than  Arrla  felt, 

And  no  one  pity  thee,  nor  heed  thy  moan ; 

May  pale  Rcmorfe  on  all  thy  fteps  attend, 
Shewing  a  form  thy  folly  would  not  fave; 

May  thy  fad  life  be  fpent  without  one  friend, 
And  not  one  tear  he  fhed  upon  thy  grave  ! 


To  a  CANARY  BIRD. 


JOEAUTIFUL  bird,  of  faffron  plume, 
Whofe  warbling  whifpers  tell  the  approach 
of  night, 

With  foften'd  cadence  ufliering  in  the  gloom, 
The  folemn  gloom  devote  to  calm  delight. 

Tell  me,  confin'd  within  thy  wiry  cell, 
The  little  notes  thou  chanteft  fo  ferene, 

Say,  are  they  plaints  thy  breaft  that  fwell, 
And  is  Captivity  thy  theme  ? 

Or,  fever'd  from  thy  lovely  mate, 

Her  lofs  doft  thou  bewail  ? 
And  all  thy  little  wrongs  relate 

In  melancholy  tale  ? 

H  h  Ah, 


POEMS, 

Ah,  no !  fo  foft,   fo  fweet  a  ftraiu 
Vibrates  not  like  the  moan  of  pain; 
Such  tones  as  from  thy  boforri  flow 
Ne'er  left  the  burftmg  heart  of  woe. 

Yet,  peaceful,  jnofFenfive  guefl, 
Could  freedom  make  thee  (till  more  bled, 
I  wpu!4  unbaj  thy  prifon  gate, 
And  let  thee  go,  to  feek  thy  fate. 

But  ah,  I  know,  unfkill'd  in  flight, 

Through  the  dark  de.fert  fhould'ft  thou  dray, 

Thy  wings  would  tire,  and  ere  the  mifts  of  night 
Some  cruel  bird  would  on  thee  prey. 

Or  elfe  thy  little  frame  expos'd 

.    To  the  raw  blafts,  and  midnight  air; 

Hungry,  and  faint,  and  uninclos'd, 

Thou  would'ft,  my  fongiter,  perifli  there. 

Stay  then  fweet  PAN,  and  when  the  morning's 

light 

Steals  through  the  openings  of  thy  grated  dome, 
Do  thou  thy  pleafmg  hymning  pow'rs  refume, 

Praifmg  the  Author  of  each  new  delight : 

And  /,  on  bended  knee  moft  fure, 
Humbly  my  lays  with  thee  will  join ; 

Nor  will  my  mattins  be  lefs  pure 

for  jmounting  up  to  Heaven  with  thine. 

THM 


POEMS'.        x  351 


THE  BIR7H  DAT  OF  COLUMBIA* 

VjOME  round  Freedom's  facred  fhrine, 
Flow'ry  garlands  let  us  twine, 
And  while  we  our  tribute  bring 
Grateful  paeans  let  us  (ing ; 
Sons  of  Freedom  join  the  lay,. 
'Tis  COLUMBIA'S  natal  day. 

Banhh  all  the  plagues  of  life, 
Fretful  Care  and  reftlefs  Strife; 
Let  the  memorv  of  your  woes 
Sink  this  day  in  fweet  repofe  ^ 
Ev'n  let  Gr/V/ritfelf  be  gay 
On  COLUMBIA'S  natal  day.. 

Late  a  defpofs  cruel  hand 

Sent  Oppreffion  through  your  land  j 

Piteous  plaints  and  tearful  moan 

Found  not  accefs  to  his  throne  ; 

Or  if  heard,  the  poor  forlorn 

Met  but  with  reproach  and  fcorn. 

PAINE,  with  eager  virtue,   then 
Snatch'd  from  TRUTH  her  diamond  pen, 

H  h  2-  Bade 

*AddrefTed  to  the  members  of  the  CINCINNATI  of  the 
ftate  of  New-York,  o»  the  FOURTH  of  JULY. 


35*  POEMS. 

Bade  the  ilaves  of  tyranny 
Spurn  their  bonds,  and  dare  be  free: 
Glad  they  burft  their  chains  away  j 
'Twas  COLUMBIA'S  natal  day. 

Vengeance  who  had  ilept  too  long, 
Wak'd  to  vindicate  our  wrong, 
Led  her  vet'rans  to  the  field, 
Sworn  to  perifh  ere  to  yield  ; 
Weeping  Memory  yet  can  tell 
How  they  fought,  and  how  they  fell. 

Lur'd  by  virtuous  WASHINGTON* 
(Liberty*?,  much  favour'd  foil,) 
Vi^ry  gave  your  fword  a  /heath, 
Binding  on  your  brows  a  wreath, 
Which  can  never  feel  decay 
While  you  hail  this  blifsful  day. 

Ever  be  its  name  rever'd ; 

Let  the  fliouts  of  joy  be  heard, 

From  where  HampJ/ilre's  bleak  winds  blow 

Down  to  Georgia's  fervid  glow ; 

Let  them  all  in  this  agree, 

"  Hail  the  day  which  made  us  free  !  " 

Bend  your  eyes  toward  that  (here 
Where  Bcllona's  thunders  roar, 

There 


POEMS.  353 

There  your  Gallic  brethren  fee 
Struggling,  bleeding  to  be  free  ! 
Oh  !    unite  your  pray 'rs  that  they 
May  foon  announce  their  natal  day. 

O  thou  POW'R  !  to  whom  we  owe 
All  the  bleflings  that  we  know, 
Strengthen  thou  our  rifing  youth, 
Teach  them  Wifdom,  Virtue >,  Truth ; 
That  when  we  are  funk  in  clay 
They  may  keep  THIS  GLORIOUS  DAY! 


JULY  THE  FOURTEENTH, 

'793- 
JTlARK  !  hark  how  the  clamours  of  war 

Thro'  Galtta's  wide  regions  refound; 
Bellona  has  mounted  her  car, 

And  fcatters  her  terrors  around  : 
Captivity  burfts  off  her  chains, 

Her  moutings  are  heard' on  the  heath,. 
Her  veterans  are  crouding  the  plains, 

Refolv'd  upon.Fnedom  or  D-eath. 

But  fee!   from. her  battlements  high, 
Plum'd  VicTry  undaunted  alight ; 

Her  flandard  flie.  waves  in  the  fkyv 
And  urges  her  fons  to  the  fight. 

Hh  3  Their 


354  POEMS 

Their  fwords  all  indignant  they  claili, 

They  rum  round  the  Baft'illis  ftrong  walls 

Ah  !  heard  you  that  horrible  crafh  ? 
The  tow'r  of  proud  Tyranny  falls  ! 

The  minions  of  defpotifm  fly, 

Purfu'd  by  deftruclion  and  wrath, 
Fear  wings  their  fad  flight,  and  their  cry 

Diflurbs  the  deep  {lumber  of  Death. 
Hafte,  hafte,  man's  dif  grace  difappear, 

Vile  wretches,  of  nature  the  blot, 
And  wherever  your  hamlets  you  rear, 

May  j&npf?  and  diftrtfi  be  your  lot. 


But  Gallia,  all  hail  !  may  thy  chiefs 

A  temple  to  Liberty  raife  ; 
And  there  may  their  feuds  and  their  griefs- 

Be  loft  in  its  altar's  bright  blaze. 
And  when  they  remember  this  day, 

Bedeck'd  with  the  laurel  and  vine> 
May  anguiih  and  care  flee  away, 

And  their  voices  in  anthems  combine. 

And  then  may  the  warblings  of  fongs 
Be  heard  from  Columbia's  green  vales, 

While  Echo  the  wild  notes  prolongs, 
And  whifpers  them  foft  to  the  gales. 

And 


POEMS.  355 

And  oh !  let  the  zephyrs  fo  fleet 

Bear  the  fweet  fwelling  tones  o'er  the  main, 
And  the  re,  let  them  fondly  repeat 

In  the  ear  of  each  Frenchman  the  flraiiu 


To  Mlfs  MASON,  at  New-Roc/ic/le. 

1793. 

JbLNQUIRING  Fancy  plumcsher  wings, 
To  feek  thee  on  HASPEDOC'S  fhorej 

And  FriendJJnp  true,  her  tribute  brings, 
To  glad  the  lonely  vacant  hour. 

And  all  attentive  would  {he  glide 
Along  thy  footfteps  ;   mufing  flow, 

Whether  thou  climb'ft  the  mountain's  fide, 
Or  cheer'fl  the  clovery  dell  below. 

Where  art  thou  now  ?  led  by  the  evening's  cool 
Stray'ft  thou  along  fome  echoing  foreft's 

{hade? 

Or  on  the  grafly  margin  of  fome  pool, 
Beneath  fome  willow  art  thou  {lumbering 
laid? 

Where  the  fwoln  throated  threJJicr  throws 
His  warblings  on  the  winding  gale, 

And  the  foft  fcented  frail  wild  rofe 
Sprinkles  its  odours  in  the  vale  ? 

Or 


35.6  POEMS. 

Or  doft  thou  bend  o'er  fome  ftupendous  cliff, 
Whofe  awful  ill  ado  w  frowns  along  the  deep  ; 
And  fee'fV  from  far  the  rough  winds  fweep, 

Through  the  high furgingj^W,  the  (budding 
fkifF? 

Or  elfe,  where  courteous  BARTOW'S  dome 

Raifes  its  hofpitable  head, 
Perhaps  thou  wandereft  down  the  gloom 

Of  the  long-alleys  verdant  fliade? 

Where'er  thou  art,  the  fcene  I  know ; 

Through  all  thy  fa v 'rite  paths  have  trod  j 
Have  mark'd  the  gay  field's  varied  glow, 

And,  paufing  gaz'd  upon  the  flood. 

Where  yon  gay  locufls  fliade  the  green, 
And  gently  whifper  to  the  breeze; 

Where,  chirps  the.  wren  their  boughs  be 
tween, 
And  flow'rs  and  flirubs  confpire  to  pleafe : 

There  ALFRED  oft  at  clofe  of  day, 

Attun'd  his  numbers  foft  and  flow, 
And  fung  the  filent  hours  away, 

And  fed  each  panting  gale  with  woe: 
And/,  when  high  the  clear  full  moon 
Had  hung  her  lamp  amid  night's  noon, 
Have,  roam'd  along  this  beauteous  glade ; 

And. 


POEMS.  357 

And  all  regardlefs  of  the  blaft 
That  whittled  round  my  naked  head, 

My  faddeft  weeping  hours  have  pad 
E'en  here,  till  many  a  dewy  fhow'r 
Had  filver'd  o'er  my  fragrant  bow'r 
And  damp'd  my  locks ;.  then  quite  oppreft, 
Late  have  I  fought  the  couch  of  reft. 

Beauteous  ROCHELLE  !  along  thy  rocky  fhore 
Full  many  a  bard  his  tuneful  drains  fhall  pour, 
And  as  the  numbers  float  along  the  ftream,  . 
Thy  ruftic  beauties  fhall  compofe  his  theme: 
Thy  wild  romantic  iflands  green, 
Thy  limpid  waves  that  filent  glide 
To  meet  old  Qcearfs  emerald  tide, 
Thy  /helving  banks,  thy  rude  cliffs  deep. 
Thy  nodding  forefts,  dark  and  deep, 
And  fruitful  meadows  fpread  between. 
And  though  perhaps  the  gentle  poet's  name 
Be  ne'er  recorded  in  thefcro//  of  Fame; 
Yet,  when  he  refts  beneath  the  valley's  clod, 
Thy  GENIUS  weeping,  ihall  bedeck  his  fod; 
Thy  flow'rs  fhall  blofTom  fweeter  round  his 

grave, 

Andfoftlier  towards  his  couch  fhall  creep  thy 
pearly  wave. 

THE 


THE 


HUDSON. 


J793- 

ILE's  beauteous  waves,  and  TIBER'S  fwelling 

tide 

Have  been  recorded  by  the  hand  of  Fame, 
And  various  floods,  which  through  Earth's  chan 
nels  glide, 

From  forne  enraptur'd  bard  have  gain'd  a  name; 

E'en  THAMES  and  WYE  have  beenthe  Poet's  theme, 

And  to  their  charms  hath  many  an  harp  been 

fining, 
Whilft  Oh!  hoar  GENIUS  of  old  Hudfori' 's  ftream, 

Thy  MIGHTY  RIVER  never  hath  been  fung: 
Say,  fliall  a  Female  firing  her  trembling  lyre, 

And  to  thy  praife  devote  th'  advent'rous  fong? 
Fir'd  with  the  theme,  her  genius  fliall  afp ire, 
And  the  notes  fweeten  as  they  float  along. 
Where  rough  Ontario's  reftlefs  waters  roar 

And  hoarfely  rave  around  the  rocky  fliore; 
Where  their  abode  tremendous  north-winds  make. 
And  reign  the  tyrants  of  the  furging  lake  ; 


THE    HUDSON. 

There,  as  the  {hell-crow n'd  genii  of  its  caves 

Toward  proud  LAWRENCE  urg'd  their  noify  waves, 

A.  form  majeftic  from  the  flood  arofe; 

A  coral  bandage  fparkled  o'er  his  brows, 

A  purple  mantle  o'er  his  limbs  was  fpread, 

And  fportive  breezes  in  his  dark  locks  play'd: 

Tow'rd  the  eaft  more  his  anxious  eyes  he  caft, 

And  from  his  ruby  lips  thefe  accents  paft : 

*  O  favour'd  land  !  indulgent  Nature  yield 

•*  Her  choiceft  fweets  to  deck  thy  boundlefs  fields ; 

*  Where  in  thy  verdant  glooms  the  fleet  deer  play, 
•'  And  the  hale  tenants  of  the  defert  ftray, 

*  While  the  tali  evergreens*  that  edge  the  dale 
'  In  filent  majeily  nod  to  each  gale : 

*  Thy  riches  mail  no  more  remain  unknown, 

*  Thy  wide  campaign  do  I  pronounce  my  own ; 

*  And  while  the  ftrong  arm'd  genii  of  this  lake 

*  Their  tributary  ftreams  to  LAWRENCE  take, 

<  Back  from  its  fcource  my  current-^-  will  I  turn, 

*  And  o'er  thy  meadows  pour  my  copious  urn.' 

He  faid,  and  waving  high  his  dripping  hand  : 
Bade  his  clear  waters  roll  toward  the  land. 
Glad  they  obey'd,  and  ftruggling  to  the  fhore, 
Dafh'd  on  its  broken  rocks  with  thund'ring  roar: 

The 

*  Cyprus,  hemlock,  firr  and  pine* 

•f-  All  the  waters  of  Lakes  George,  Champlain  and  Ontario 
em^ity  in  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  except  one  fma',1  ftream, 
which,  running  an  oppofite  courfe,  forms  the  Hudfon. 


360  THE    HUDSON. 

The  rocks  in  vain  oppofe  their  furious  courfej 
From  each  repulfe  they  rife  with  tenfold  force  ; 
And  gath'ring  all  their  angry  pow'rs  again, 
Gufh'd  o'er  the  banks,  and  fled  acrofs  the  plain. 
Soon  as  the  waves  had  prefs'd  the  level  mead, 
Pull  many  a  pearly  footed  Naiad  fair, 
With  hafty  fteps,  her  limpid  fountain  led, 
To  fwell  the  tide,  and  hail  it  welcome  there: 
Their  bufy  hands  collect  a  thoufand  flow'rs, 
And  fcatter  them  along  the  grafly  mores. 
There,  bending  low,  the  ivater-lillies  bloom, 
And  the  blue  crocus  filed  their  moift  perfume; 
There  the  tall  velvet  fcarlet  lark-fpur  laves 
Her  pale  green  ftem  in  the  pellucid  waves; 
There  nods  the  fragile  columbine,  fo  fair, 
And  the  mild  dewy  iuild~rofe  fcents  the  air; 
While  round  the  trunk  of  fome  majeftic  pine 
The  bluming  honey  fuckUs  branches  twine  : 
There  too  Pomona's  richeft  gifts  are  found, 
Her  golden  melons  prefs  the  fruitful  ground  ; 
The  glofly  crimfon//#;«£r  there  fwell  their  rinds, 
And  purple  grapes  dance  to  autumnal  winds  ; 
While  all  beneath  the  mandrake's  fragrant  made 
delicious  fweets  are  laid. 


Now  by  a  thoufand  bubbling  ftreams  fupplied, 
More  deep  and  ftill  the  peaceful  waters  glide, 
And  flowly  wandering  through  the  wide  campaign, 
Pafs  the  big  billows  of  the  grand  CHAMPLAIN: 

There* 


THE    HUDSON.  361 

There,  when  Britannia  wag'd  unrighteous  ivar, 

Aforfrefs*  rear'd  her  ramparts  o'er  the  tide; 
Till  brave  MONTGOMERY  broughthis  hofts  from  far, 

And  conquering,  crufh'd  the  fcornful  Briton's  pride. 
The  openings  of  the  forefts  green,  difclofe 

TICONDEROGA  (long  fince  known  to  fame:) 
There  fiercely  rufhing  on  th'  unwary  foes, 

The  gallant  ALLENf  gain'd  himfelf  a  name. 
Hence  flows  our  ftream,  meand'ring  near  the  fhore 
Of  the  fmooth  lake]:  renown'd  for  waters  pure, 
Which  gently  wanders  o'er  a  marble  bed,^ 
Cool'd  by  projecting  rocks,  eternal  made. 
Amid  thofe  airy  clifts  (ftupendous  height!) 

The  howling  natives  of  the  defert  dwell : 
There,  fearful  Echo  all  the  live  long  night 

Repeats  the  pantlrer's  petrefying  yell. 


FORT-EDWARD. 

But  wherefore  river  creep  thy  waves  fo  flow  ? 

Or  why  fo  mournfully  purfue  their  courfe, 
As  though  thou  here  had'ft  known  fomefceneof  woe, 

Whofe  horrors  fain  would  fright  thee  to  thy  fource  ? 
I  i  Alas ! 

*  St.  John's,  befieged  and  taken  by  the  American  army 
under  General  Montgomery. 

•f  Colonel  Ethen  Alien,  who  took  Tlconderoga  by  furprife. 

J  Lake  George. 

§  Almofl  the  whole  bed  of  Lake  George  is  a  fmooth  WHITE 
rock. 


362  THE    HUDSON. 

Alas !  alas !  the  doleful  caufe  is  known; 

'Twas  here  M'CREA,*  guided  by  favage  bands, 

Fell,  (oh  fad  fuff'rer !)  by  their  murderous  hands, 
And  this  flood  heard  her  lafi  expiring  groan  ! 
This  flood,  which  fliould  have  borne  the  nuptial  throng, 

Found  her  warm  blood  deep  tincturing  its  ftreams ! 
Thefe  woods,  which  fhould  have  heard  her  bridal  long, 

Wildly  refponded  all  her  hopelefs  fcreams ! 
CRUEL  in  MERCY,  BARBAROUS  Eurgoyne! 

Ah !  fee  an  aged  fire,  with  filver  hairs, 
(Wkofe  goo dmfs  till  fled  much,  too  much  to  thine,) 

Bathing  his  mangled  daughter  with  his  tears ! 
Hear  a  diftra&ed  lover's  frightful  voice ! 

See,  as  he  bends  to  kifs  the  clotted  gore 
Senfelefs  he  finks !  but  Death  hath  clos'd  thine  eyes,f 

And  Mem'ry  weeps,  but  will  reproach  no  more. 

In  Edward's  fortrefs,  here  a  grand  retreat 
The  Britons  plann'd,  but  ere  it  was  compleat 
New  Albion's  vet'rans,  with  undaunted  force, 
Stood  like  a  barrier  and  oppos'd  their  courfe. 
Here  broader  fwells  the  tide,  and  the  flrong  oar 
Is  heard  to  dam  the  waves :  the  fliady  more 
Sounds  with  the  peafant's  flrokes,  and  the  tall 'wood 
The  hand  of  Commerce  bears  along  the  flood; 

Unnumber'd 

*  Near  Fort-Edward  the  beautiful  Mifs  M'Crea  was  cruelly 
murdered -by  Indians,  who  were  fent  by  General  Burgoyneto 
efcort  her  to  her  lover,  one  of  his  officers,  to  whom  fhe  was  to 
have  been  married  in  a  few  days. 

•J-  He  died  in  1792. 


THE    HUDSON.  363 

Unnumber'd  herds  of  cattle  graze  the  plain, 
And  in  the  valley  waves  the yellnu g rain; 
The  green  maize  nifties  on  the  mountain's  brow, 
And  the  thick  orchard^  bloflbms  blufh  below : 
For  the  luxuriance  of  the  cultur'd  foil 
Amply  rewards  the  hardy  ruftic's  toil. 

Now  the  fair  Hudfon's  widening  waters  tend 

Where  SARATOGA'S  ancient  forefts  bend, 

Where  GATES,  the  w^r//^  GATES,  Columbia's  boafl, 

Vanquifh'd  the  proud  Burgoy tie's  aftoniih'd  hofl ! 

Victorious  chief!  while  here  thou  glad'ft  our  eyes, 

For  thee,  from  the  full  heart  a  pray'r  muft  rife; 

Of  the  poor  orphan  all  his  friends  remov'd, 

And  the  fad  widow  reft  of  all  me  lov'd : 

Thefe,  while  thou  liv'ft,  mall  blefs  the  hero  who 

Refcued  Columbia  from  a  cruel  foe, 

A  parent  to  the  orphan* d  child  reitor'd, 

And  bleft  the  widow  with  her  much  lov'd  lord^ 

Reveng'd  the  caufe  of  many  a  foldier  flain, 

And  fixt  on  Britifh  arms  a  lafling  flain ! 

And  when  the  hand  of  Death  thine  eyes  fhall  clofe, 

And  chanting  angels  guard  thy  foft  repofe, 

Then  will  they,  grateful,  o'er  thy  cold  tomb  mourn, 

And,  weeping,  hang  a  garland  on  thine  urn. 

Through  many  a  '  blooming  wild,'  and  woodland 

green, 
The  Hudfon's  fleeping  waters  winding  flray ; 

I i  2  Now 


THE    HUDSON. 

Now  'mongft  the  hills  its  filvery  waves  are  feen, 

And  now  through  arching  willows  fleal  away  ;. 
Then  burfting  on  th'  enamour'd  fight  once  more, 

Gladden  fome  happy  peafant's  rude  retreat; 
And  paflingj!0#/^/#/  TROY'S  commercial  more, 

With  the  hoarfe  MOHAWK'S  roaring  furges  meet.. 
Oh,  beauteous  Mo  HAWK!  'wilder'd  with  thy  charms, 

The  chillieft  heart  fmks.into  rapt'rous  glows  ; . 
While  the  itern  warrior,  us'd  to  loud  alarms, 

Starts  at  the  thunderings  of  thy  dread  COHOES.* 
Now  more  majeftic  rolls  the  ample  tide, 

Tall  waving  elms  its  clovery  borders  fliade,. 
And  many  a  ftately  dome,  in  ancient  pride, 

And  hoary  grandeur,  there  exalts  its  head. 
There  trace  the  marks  of  Culture's  funburnt  hand, 

The  honied  luck-rwheafs\  cluttering  bloflbms  view, 
Dripping  rich  odours,  mark  the  beard  grain  bland, 

The  loaded  orchard,  and  the  flax  field  blue. 
ALBANIA'S  gothic  fjpires  now  greet  the  eye; 

Time'?,  hand  hath  wipM  their  burnim'd  tints  away, 
And  the  rich  fanes  which  fparkled  to  the  fky, 

'Reft  of  their  fplendours,  mourn  in  cheerleis  grey. 
There  many  an  ancient  ftru&ure  tottering  (lands ; 

Round 

*  Next  to  the  Niagara  the  grandeft  falls  on  the  continent, 
70  feet  high. 

•\  This  grain,  when  in  bloom,  can  be  fmelt  at  fuch  a  dif- 
tance,  and  fo  rich  is   the   fcent,  that  it  may  be  faid,  that, 
"  Many  a  league, 
11  Cheer'd  with  the  grateful  fcnellold  HUDSON 


T'HE    HUDSON.  36$ 

Round  the  damp  chambers  mouldy  vapours  creep, 
And  feathery-footed  Silence  folds  her  hands, 

While  the  pale  genii  of  the  manfion  deep. 
Yet  thither  Trade'*  full  freighted  veflels  come; 

Thither  the  fhepherds  mercantile  refort : 
There  Architecture  late  hath  rais'd  her  dome, 

And  Agriculture's  products  fill  her  port. 
The  grafly  hill,  the  quivering  poplar  grove, 

The  copfe  of  hazle,  and  the  tufted  bank, 
The  long  green  valley,  where  the  white  flocks  rpve, 

The  jutting, rock,  o'erhung  with  ivy  dank; 
The  tall  pines  waving  on  the  mountain's  brow, 

Whofe lofty  fpires  catch  day's  laft  lingering  beam; 

The  bending  willow  weeping  o'er  the  ftream, 
The  brook's  foft  gurglings,  and  the  garden's  glow ; 
Thefe  meet  the  wandering  traveler's  ardent  gaze; 
From  .more  to  more  enraptur'd  Fancy  ftrays; 
Each  parting  fcene  his  anxious  eyespurfue, 
Till-HuDsoN's  city  rifes  to  his  view: 
There,  on  the  borders  of  the  river  rife 
The  a^ure  mountains  tow'ring  to  the  fldes, 
Whofe  cloudy  bluffs,  and  fpiralfteeps  fublime, 
Brave  the  rude  gufts,  and  mock  the  ftrokes  of  Time*-1- 
High  on  the  healing^rr  tree's  topmoft  bough  . 

The  folitary -heron  builds  her  neft; 

There  in  fecurity  her  offspring  reft, 
Regardlefs  of  the  ftorms  that  rave  below. 


I  i  3-  Wakeful; 


366  THE    HUDSON. 

Wakeful  remembrance^  on  thine  ember'd  plain 

Will  paufe  ESOPUS,*  and  indulge  a  tear; 

Will  bid  again  the  fcenes  of  woe  appear; 
Will  bid  the  mouldering  manfion  blaze  again. 
She  calls  to  mind  when  Britain's  lawlefs  bands 

Wag'd  impious  war  with  confecrated  fanes; 
Streach'd  againft  HEAV'N  their  fanguinary  hands, 

While  fear,  nor  awe,  their  barbarous  will  reftrains. 
O  HUDSON  !  HUDSON  !  from  thy  frighted  fhore 

Thou  faw'il  the  burfling  flame  mount  to  the  fky ; 
Thou  heard'ft  the  burning  buildings  fearful  roar; 

Thou  heard'ft  the  mournful  ilirieks  of  Agony. 
See,  from  his  couch  defencelefs  Sicknefs  driv'n  1 

See  bending  Age,  exhaufted,  creep  along! 
Weeping,  they  turn  their  hopelefs  eyes  to  heav'n, 

And  pitious  wailings  murmur  from  their  tongue. 
Here  a  diftracted  'widow  wrings  her  hands, 

While  griefs  too  keen  forbid  her  tears  to  flow : 
There  all  aghaft  a  wretched  parent  ftands, 

Viewing  his  beggared  babes  inffeechkfs  ivoe  ! 
Why  did  thy  hand,   O  deflating  War! 

Thy  bloody  banners  o'er  our  land  unfurl  ? 
Why  did  thy  cruel  hirelings  come  from  far,  x 

Murder  and  fire  o'er  every  plain  to  hurl  ? 
So  as  they  glutted  their  dark  fouls  with  death, 
,  Be  their  attendants  fhame,  remorfe  and  pain : 

While 

*  Efopus  was  burnt  by  the  British  In  1777.  Befidea  .this 
place  and  Hudfon  there  are  feveral  towns  and  villages  upon 
the  river,  viz.  Red-Hook,  Poughkeepfie,  New-Wiiidfor,  New- 
burgh,  New-Malborough,  Fift-Kil!,  &c. 


THE    HUDSON.  367 

While  each  fack'd  village  on  th'  enfanguin'd  heath 
Shall  from  its  fmoking  afhes  rife  again. 

Low  funk  between  the  Alleganian  hills, 

For  many  a  league  the  fullen  waters  glide, 

And  the  deep  murmur  of  the  crouded  tide, 
With  pleating  awe  the  wond'ring  voy'ger  fills. 
On  the  green  fummit  of  yon  lofty  clift 

A  peaceful  runnel  gurgles  clear  and  flow, 
Then  down  the  craggy  fteep  fide  dafhing  fwift, 

Tremendous  falls  in  the  white  furge  below. 
Here  fpreads  a  clovery  lawn  its  verdure  far, 

Around  it  mountains  vaft  their  forefts  rear, 
And  long  ere  Day  hath  left  his  burnifli'd  car 

The  dews  of  Night  have  fhed  their  odours  there, 
There  hangs  a  louring  rock  acrofs  the  deep; 

Hoarfe  roar  the  waves  its  broken  bafe  around  j 
Through  its  dark  caverns  noify  whirlwinds  fweep, 

While  Horror  ftartles  at  the  fearful  found. 
The  fliivering/rt//j-  that  cut  the  fluttering  breeze, 

Glide  through  thefe  w inding  rocks  w  ith  airy  fweep  \ 
Beneath  the  cooling  glooms  of  waving  trees, 

And  Hoping  paftures  fpeck'd  with  fleecy  {heep. 


Dam  ye  broad  waves,  and  proudly  heave  and  fwell; 
Roufe  aged  Neptune  from  his  amber  cave, 
And  bid  the  nymphs  the  pebbly  ftrand  who  lave, 

Round  this  grand  bulwark  found  their  coral  ihell : 

For, 


368  THE    HUDSON* 

For,  nightly  bending  o'er  thefe  ftreams, 
Bafe  TREASON  plotted  murderous  fcheraes; 
Then  ftealingfoft  to  ARNOLD'S  bed, 
Her  vifions  vague  around  him  fhed; 
And  while  dark  vapours  dim'd  his  eyes 
She  bade  thefe  forms  illufive  rife : 
Firft  ANDRE  came;  his  youthful  air 

Allur'd  the  falling  chieftain's  eyes  j 
But  when  the  glittering  bribes  appear, 

A  thoufand  ftrange  ideas  rife: 
He  faw  Britannia's  marmall'd  hofts,- 
Gountlefs,  advance  toward  his  pofts ; 
Honour  he  faw,  and  VTealth,  and  Fame, 
With  every  good  that  wifh  can  frame, 
Attend  their  train ;  he  long'd  to  ftretch  . 
Beyond  his  virtuous  brethren's  reach; 
His  heart  polluted,  vainly  figh'd 
To  bound  and  fwell  in  TITLED  pride. 
Now  fair  COLUMBIA'S  armies  come— • 
His  hand  hath  feal'd  their  mournful  doom; 
And  in  an  unrelenting  hour 
He  yields. them  up  to  Albion's  power: 
Then  Murder  bloats  with  horrid  pride ! , 
A  thoufand  fall  on  every  fide  ! 
And  coward  Cruelty's  bafe-  bands 
Dip  in  warm  gore  their  barb 'rous  hands: 
Then  the  broad-fword  difplays  its  force, 

Drench'd  to  the  very  hilt  in  blood ! 

While- 


THE    HUDSON.  369 

While  the  brave  warrior,  and  the  frantic  horfe 

Wallow  together  in  the  purple  flood ! 
Then  rofe  a  NAME ;  and  lo !  from  far 

He  hears  the  hum  of  chariot  wheels ; 

*  Divinity'  within  him  feels, 

And  thunders  forth,  THE  SOVEREIGN  LORD  orWAR. 
His  anxious  eyes  he  ftrain'd  for  more ; 

But  fickle  Fancy  dropt  the  fcene; 
TRUTH'S  radiant  rays  around  him  pour, 

And  fhew'd  the  wretch  'twas  all  a  dream  ! 


Fierce  burfting  from  between  the  fturdy  hills, 
More  high  the  wealthy  river's  bofom  fwells ; 
Their  circles  broader  now  the  waves  expand, 
Howl  to  the  winds,  and  lafh  the  anfwering  ftrand; 
Then  rolling  flow,  they  kifs  the  flinty  mound, 
For  valiant  WAYNE'S  victorious  acts  renown'd: 
'Twas  there  J5<r//o;^rear'd  her  ftandard  high, 

And  bellowing  engines  pour'd  forth  florins  of  fire; 

While  finoky  columns  flow  to  heav'n  afpire, 
Obfcure  the  fun,  and  hide  the  glowing  fky : 
Ranks  rufh'd  on  ranks,  and  the  bright  blade 
Its  path  through  many  a  bofom  made, 
While  furious  men  regardlefs  tread 
Upon  the  dying,  and  the  dead ! 
O  what  a  piteous  fcene  of  woes ! 
The  blood  in  bubbling  currents  flow?; 
The  fiends  of  battle  fliriek  aloud, 

Deflruflion  hurls  his  fhafts  abroad, 

And 


370  THE    HUDSON. 

And  all  the  rocky  caverns  round 
With  fullen  groans  of  Death  refound ! 
But  valor  fwell'din  FLEURY'sbreaft; 
He  figh'cl  to  give  his  vet'rans  reft ; 
And  liftlefs  of  the  deadly  aim 
With  which  Britannia's  volleys  came, 
He  rufh'd  among  the  awe-ftruck  croud, 
And  bore  away  their  banner  proud.* 

For  this  brave  deed,  hath  raptur'd  Fame 
Twin'd  many  a  chaplet  round  his  brow ; 

And  long  as  lafts  COLUMBIA'S  name 
The  fragrant  bloflbms  fair  mall  blow ; 
And  when  the  hand  of  Death,  fo  cold, 
Shall  wrap  him  in  the  valley's  mold, 
A  modeft  ftone  fhall  mark  the  place ; 

And  there  Affection's  hand  mail  'grave, 

"  HereFLEURY  lies,  the  warrior  brave  1" 
And  all  the  fimple  line  who  trace, 
Shall  heave  a  figh  or  drop  a  tear, 
And  blefs  the  foldier  mouldering  there ! 

Soon  as  the  ridgy  mountains  leave  the  eye, 
Tall  mural  rocksf  (hoot  proud  into  the  air; 

In  fhapes  fantaltic  lift  their  turrets  high, 
Fit  for  \htjkadowffarms  who  revel  there : 

The 


*  At  the  ftorming  of  Stony-Point  Lieutenant  Fleury  ftruck 
the  Britifh  itandard  with  his  own  hand. 

•f-  Thefe  rocks  rife  for  many  miles  nearly  perpendicular, 
fome  of  them  600  feet. 


THE    HUDSON.  371 

The  hardy  PINES  that  on  their  fteep  fides  grow, 
(Whofe  naked  roots  from  chink  to  chink  extend; 
Whofe  boughs  afpiring,  tow'rd  the  denfe  clouds  tend,) 

Appear  Vti&Jhrubs  to  the  ftrain'd  eyes  below. 
The  wandering  goat  adventures  to  the  brink, 

And  peeps  acrofs  the  fretted  edge  with  care; 
Then  from  the  awful  precipice  (he  fhrinks, 
As  though  relentlefs  Ruin  hover'd  there. 
Yet  there,  when  Night  hath  bid  the  world  be  mute, 

The  fleeplefs/z//cr  often  clambers  high, 
And  from  fome  fhadowy  nook  his  fonorous  flute 

Sends  mournful  accents  to  the  neighbouring  fky : 
And  while  the  flood  reflects  the  broad  moon  bright, 
Conceal'd  the  budding  laurel's  fweets  among, 
There  the  fad  lover  pours  his  pculive  fong, 
Filling  with  mellow  founds  the  ear  of  Night. 
But  now  the  advancing  fight  admires 
The  rifing  fanes  and  glittering  fpires 
Of  EBORACIA'S  ftately  tow'rs, 
Which  catch  the  Morning's  fplendid  beam, 
And  mining  o'er  the  frothy  ftream, 
Gild  with  refracted  light  the  long  extended  mores. 
Alas !  how  late  the  rude  foe  revel'd  there, 
(Their  engines  bellow  mournful  o'er  the  main, 
And  every  ftreet  gleams  with  the  difmal  glare,) 
Murder,  and  Want,  and  Sicknefs  in  their  train : 
Beneath  the  burning  torch  of  War  confum'd, 
Her  walls  in  fmoking  ruins  lay  fcatter'd  round ; 

While 


372  THE   HUDSON. 

While  horrid  fires  her  HOLY  DOMES  illum'd, 
Whofe  blazing  fpires  fell  thundering  to  the  ground, 
Gilding  the  gloomy  boforn  of  old  Night, 

Then  from  the  deadly  prifon's  walls  arife, 

Of  Hunger  fierce,  the  agonizing  cries, 
Filling  the  liftening  foul  with  wild  affright ! 
But  now  the  "  crimfon  toils"  of  War  are  o'er, 
Her  dreadful  clamourings  meet  the  ear  no  morej 
The  grafly  paftures,  lately  dy'd  with  blood, 
Now  on  their  bofoms  hold  fome  dimpling  flood; 
And  the  raz'd  buildings,  whofe  high  poliih'd  ftones 
Sunk  difregarded  'mongft  half  mouldering  bones, 
From  their  own  afhes,  phoenix  like,  arife, 
And  grandly  lift  their  turrets  tow'rd  the  fides: 
The  bufy  bands  of  Commerce  croud  her  ports ; 

Full  in  her  harbours  fwells  the  fnowy  fail, 
The  fpringing  breeze,  the  dancing  ftreamer  courts, 

And  the  deep  veflel  bows  before  the  gale; 
While  from  fair  Na/au's  ifle,*  or  Jerfey^  fliore, 
The  Jab  'ring  peafant  turns  his  heavy  oar; 
His  broad  boat  laden  with  inviting  fruits, 
Delicious  wild  fowl,  with  falubrious  roots, 
And  tafteful  pulfe ;  or  elfe  he  draws  the  car, 

Fill'd  with  the  tenants  of  the  briny  fea, 
Or  fedgy  creek,  or  wood-edg'd  riiier  fair, 

And  hies  him  to  this  bufy  mart  with  glee: 

Where 

*  Commonly  called  Long-Ifland. 


THE    HUDSON.  373 

Where  from  the  early  dawn,  a  hardy  throng 
Spread  various  works  the  loaded  fliores  along; 
Sound  the  harfli  grating  faw,  or  hammer  loud, 
Or  blow  the  roaring  furnace,  fable  brow'd, 
Or  ply  the  heavy  hulks,  propt  up  in  air, 
From  fmoking  cauldrons,  with  ebullient  tar, 
Or  guide  the  groaning  wheels,  and  ftraining  fteedx 
To  where  the  fons  of  Trade  their  wealth  unlade. 

PRIDE  of  COLUMBIA!  EBORACIA  fair! 
What  happy  region  will  with  thee  compare 
For  Nature's  bounties  fam'd?  where  fwells  the  more 
Withyo/7  £o  fertile,  and  with  AIR  so  PURE? 
Two  mighty  rivers*  round  thee  roll  their  ftreams, 

From  the  green  bofom  of  the  vafty  fea, 
Wooing  the  winds  fo  cool;  when  Sol's  fierce  beams 

Would  finge  the  verdure  of  the  thirfty  lea. 
O  may  the  braying  trumpet's  fhrill  tongu'd  roar 
Be  heard  among  thine  echoing  wilds  no  more, 
Nor  purple  blood  thy  lilied  vallies  flain, 
Nor  founds  of  death  afright  the  refllefs  main, 
Nor  pantingy/W/  neigh  to  the  clarion's  blaft, 

Mocking  the  vengeful  fword,  and  glittering  fpearj. 

Nor  wounded  warriors  'midft  the  hurtle  drear, 
Trampled  beneath  their  courfers,  figh  their  laft  j 
But  may  thy  virtuous  fons  unrivall'd  fland, 
The  boaft  of  Science  and  their  native  land; 

K  k  Led 

*  The  HUDSON  and  the  EAST-RIVER  or  SOUNP,  which 
ju?ct  at  the  fouih-weft  end  of  the  city. 


374  THE  HUDSON. 

Led  by  the  hand  of  Truth,  may  they  attain 

The  height  for  which  have  thoufands  figh'd  in  vain  j 

Nor  may  a  wifh  ambitious  ever  rife, 

Save  this,  to  be  more  virtuous  and  more  wife; 

And  by  no  defpot's  iron  laws  confm'd, 

Enjoying  the  vaft  freedom  of  the  mind; 

But  while  they  throng  the  domes  of  Liberty, 

May  they  her  facred  precepts  ne'er  profane; 
Nor  while  they  boafl  themfelves .'  the  virtuous/ra?' 

Qntftave  beneath  the  cruel  yoke  retain. 
May  thy  fair  daughters  Wifdom's  laws  obey, 

Each  thought  ungentle  from  their  breafts  repel; 
And  (kill'd  in  pious  lore,  to  all  difplay 

'Tis  not  in  beauty  they  alone  excel. 
And  may  the  GREAT  SUPREME,  when  fhowering 
down, 

In  rich  profufion,  all  the  joys  of  Peace, 
Thine  offspring  for  his  favourite  people  own, 

And  hearts  beftow  the  donorrs  hand  to  blefs : 
Then  fliall  thy  'habitants  indeed  be  blefl; 

Regions  far  diftant  fliall  revere  thy  name, 
And  nations  long  of  every  good  pofleft, 

Stile  thee  UNEQUALL'D  in  the  Scroll  of  Fame. 
And  thou,  O  RIVER  !  whofe  majeflic  flream 

Hath  rous'd  a  feeble  hand  to  fweep  the  lyre, 

Thy  charms  fome  loftier  poet  mail  infpire, 
And  Clio's  felf  fliall  patronize  the  theme ; 

To 


THE    HUDSON. 


375 


To  hall  thee  ftiall  admiring  realms  agree, 
Sing  to  thy  praife,  and  blefs  our  happy  lot; 
And  DANUBE'S  roaring  flood  mail  be  forgot, 

And  NILE  and  TIBER,  when  they  fpeak  of  THEE  I 


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